


The Arena

by LeaderoftheDregs



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, FUCK SEASON 7, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I believe in space gays and I'm writing with a vengeance, I'm making this up as I go, M/M, Please bear with me and my trashy shipper self, We're making our own canon now folks, doing my best, space is gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-02 23:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13329072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeaderoftheDregs/pseuds/LeaderoftheDregs
Summary: After a year of defending the universe, Keith is taken by the Galra and forced to fight in the arena rings, just like Shiro. Except he’s not just fighting alien monsters - he’s fighting someone he knows. And if he doesn’t succeed, then he dies, and never gets to see his Voltron family again, and after a year of bloody, horrible battles day after day, he’s starting to lose hope of ever being rescued.





	1. Red & Rage

1 Year, 3 Months, 1 Week, 4 Days after Capture

Keith

 

 

Keith rolled over on the floor, turning to face the cold metal wall for the fifth time that night. Usually he had an easier time sleeping after a fight, but this was different. He’d been exhausted and unfocused, a depressive spiral beginning before he could shut it down like the millions of times before. Keith still couldn’t figure out what triggered it, but the important thing was that it had led him to be off his game, which meant an opportunity attack for his opponent, which meant that the old red paladin of Voltron was currently nursing a deep gash across his arm. For a moment, he thought it was all over. He hadn’t even been upset, just slightly regretful that he hadn’t been able to say goodbye. Keith felt truly alone in that brief second where the blood loss had become a little too much, when he readied himself to die.

Unfortunately, he'd survived.

The battle had been complicated but ended up simple - a nasty looking creature, something Keith hadn’t come upon during his time as a paladin and therefore didn’t know the name of - had accidentally stepped on a trap Keith had planted earlier, and gone up in flames instantly. Keith was declared winner and rushed to what qualified as a medic on these nasty Galra fighter ring cruisers, which was basically an old, bitter, oversized beetle-shaped man that grumbled and did no more than roughly sew up gaping wounds and call it good.

Keith missed the cryopods.

He inevitably decided to lay on his back and stare at the ceiling, trying to ignore the throbbing, hot pain of his probably infected arm. Usually even such an extensive injury wouldn’t bother him, but he had a huge fight in the ring tomorrow, and his weakness was going to be a problem. Keith’s opponent would crush him without hesitation, as they’d all been conditioned to do. The consequences were much worse if they didn’t comply.

Pulling his blanket up to cover his face, Keith tried to take deep breaths and calm himself. He’d done this thousands of times. He’d killed hundreds. This was routine.

It still made him seethe in anger. 

The rage was what kept him alive; the only thing that had sustained him from the beginning. The violence helped to channel that fury, but it also fanned the flames. Sometimes, too often, Keith felt as if he was losing sight of himself. More and more, when he caught glimpses in reflective surfaces throughout the ship, he felt his old identity bury itself deeper under the sins and scars of his current self.

His hair reached his shoulders now. His skin was more scars than not, and his shoulder was still an ugly (but functional, that was the important thing) misshapen mess from an explosion. His upper right leg was missing a large piece from the shrapnel that had embedded itself and refused to leave without taking something with it.

Keith had also just passed his 20th birthday.

The one thing that kept him sane was seeing his eyes. On the worst nights, after the brutal battles, Keith would draw out the blade he’d managed to keep hidden this entire time and look at his own eyes reflected back at him. They’d never changed, and when he only looked at the dark purple irises, wide and clear, it was easy to pretend he hadn’t either.

The blade was a tiny thing, more like a letter opener than a deadly weapon. It hadn’t been any good at aidinghis multiple escape attempts, but it was one of the few items he’d retained from his past life with his Voltron family. It grounded him, this little black-and-red sliver of metal that had been gifted to him upon a trip to a local planet’s equivalent of a farmer’s market.

It was important not to drown in the memories, however. Rescue wasn’t coming - Keith had accepted that a long time ago - and he needed to do whatever was necessary to survive. He faced every opponent with this thought, and this thought only, because contemplation of one’s morality in a fight-or-die ring led by the tyrannical race of furries running the galaxy just wasn’t a viable option.

Keith rubbed his face and tried to will himself to fall asleep. Especially after today’s injury, he was going to need rest before the battle tomorrow. Eventually the weary, bone-deep exhaustion overtook him, and he slept poorly, dreaming of endless metal walls, red blades, and open blue skies above a silent desert.

\---------------------------------------------------

The morning came harshly, bringing with it heavy clanging on the walls and a poorly packaged tray of food tossed on the floor. This was routine, yet the sudden loudness still caught Keith off guard as he jumped up, swinging into an easy fighting stance that had long been ingrained into him. The Galra guard dropping off the food looked unimpressed, and only bothered to roll her eyes briefly at the dumb, wild human trapped in a cage before moving on to the next cell.

After taking a breath to calm down, Keith sat gracelessly on the floor and inhaled the mush given to him. It was unlike him to sleep so heavily, but the injury had clearly taken its toll. He just hoped everything would be okay for the battle today.

Once Keith had eaten every last disgusting drop of slop, he began stretching in the weak moonlight that streamed through his window, the shadow of the grate cover somewhat diminishing the reminder that there was a whole galaxy out there. That someday, he would be free.

It was important to keep convincing himself that. The moment he gave up hope, the moment he became weak.

However, Keith wasn’t stupid, and knew staying alive was his priority right now, as it had been for the last year. He tried to let the exhaustion roll off of him as he continued to warm up for the fight ahead, trying to use the meditation exercises Shiro had taught him so long ago in the Garrison dorms after a particularly nasty fight.

_“I don’t need this hippie bullshit, Shiro. I need Levi to stop being an asshole and calling me a fa-”_

_“Enough, Keith. Levi’s not worth your time. Just let me try to help you with your temper, so you can stop getting into so much trouble all the time.” Shiro guided him down the hall, chiding him in the way all older brothers perfect from a young age._

_“I don’t have a temper!” Keith raged, before taking in Shiro’s poorly hidden smirk. “Fine. Whatever. But I don’t regret breaking Levi’s nose.”_

_“Trust me, I don’t regret walking by just a little to late to stop you.” Shiro winked, and Keith, despite himself, chuckled. He felt slightly better, knowing he wasn’t alone._

Keith’s eyes flew open as the memory of that last thought snuck into his mind, unattended and leaving a trail of pain behind. It was only because he knew Shiro would be disappointed that he didn’t punch the wall, instead allowing himself a brief moment of overflowing grief at everything he’d lost.

The escort guard chose this moment to begin his stomp down the hall, and Keith was forced to shove everything away quickly before it made him lose focus right before the battle.

_Just breathe, Keith. Take deep breaths and focus on that. As long as you’re breathing, the rest is secondary, right? You can do anything else, but only if you’re breathing and alive._

"Get out of my head", Keith growled at the voices tangling inside his head to try and quiet Shiro’s, but they didn’t listen, and instead added the familiar, colorful layers of the other paladins as well.

He quickly took out his blade and looked right in his own eyes, memorizing the clarity of them, trying to remember himself in this moment as the reflective surface also caught a glimpse of the ugly scar on his forehead and Keith came back to himself, remembering the fierce battle ahead. He barely had time to hide the knife before the escort guard, grumbling his way along, showed up at the door to let Keith out.

“Come on.” He didn’t look particularly happy about the situation either, and Keith rolled his eyes as he stood up, cracking his back as if nothing was wrong before walking forward to be handcuffed for the short trip.

As Keith was roughly dragged through the halls by the old, tired Galra, he worked to summon the cold rage he’d felt so many times during his duration at the Garrison, a focused anger that served him better than the hot temper he still struggled with. Violence. Bloodlust. Fury. Intuition. He would be one step ahead of his opponent, he always was. That was how he’d survived.

He could hear the roaring of the crowd as it reverberated through the walls, and they soon reached the small cell that served as an entrance point for one of the fighters.

The audience knew this was going to be a bloody, long-lasting battle, and they were thundering for it louder than ever.

Keith took a deep breath and felt a flit of irritation for the Galra’s disgusting bloodthirst. His was carefully cultivated for survival, not out of a genuine love for suffering.

The guard opened their side of the cell before tossing Keith in without much strength. After removing the handcuffs, he closed and locked the door before shuffling off to whatever his next task was. Keith walked to the arena side of the cell and looked through a small crack to trying and study the arena before being tossed in. The announcer boomed the countdown throughout, and the wild animal that used to be the red paladin of Voltron cracked his neck before running in place to get his blood pumping.

“YOU KNOW HIM. YOU LOVE HIM. THE WILD, ANGRY, HOT-TEMPERED BOY WHO USED TO BE…. A PALADIN -”

The last word was hissed out and followed by guttural, violent ‘boos’.

"RED!"

Keith’s door opened and he sprinted out, scanning the field in front of him as he easily ignored the various noises from the audience around him.

It was flat, sandy, and empty, with the exception of a longsword at his feet, which he quickly grabbed up. The arena wasn’t really empty - it never was - it simply looked like it. Deceiving and deadly, just like the Galra who ran it.

Keith knew he should move toward the center, but he stayed back, waiting for his opponent to be announced.

“YOU KNOW HIM. YOU LOVE HIM. THE COCKY, FLIRTATIOUS -”

The words faded out from Keith’s ears as he studied the sword in his hands. It balanced well, and should skewer the odds in his favor. They must really want him to win to give him a weapon he knows best.

He doesn't particularly care. He's done this a million times before. Or, more specifically, 468 times.

The crowd screams with the announcer.

"BLUE!"

The familiar mess of sandy hair and brown skin sauntered in, a shit-eating grin wide on his face.

Keith studied him, trying to figure out where the other boy had last been hurt; where his weak spots were. It was clear Blue favored his left leg and hadn’t slept well either. He also seemed paler than usual. Maybe he’d lost quite a bit of blood in a recent fight, Keith mused.

"Red" moved forward into a fighting stance as his opponent picked up a sniper rifle. So they really wanted this fight to be brutal.

No matter. Keith felt that age-old rage fill him easily as he looked across at Blue.

_Lance._

The two made eye contact. Keith spit on the ground. Lance returned the sentiment with a burning glare that made his intent to kill clear.

They charged towards each other, and all Keith saw was red.


	2. Blue & Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle between the two famous ex-paladins ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy you guys enjoyed the first chapter! Don't worry, I have a plan and all will be revealed.... :D in the meantime, feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts or suggestions! Hope you enjoy this chapter :)

1 Year, 3 Months, 1 Week, 4 Days after Capture

Lance 

 

His first thought as he stepped into the arena, putting on his most dazzling, obnoxious grin, was that he desperately missed having a comfortable bed. Sleeping on the floor for a whole year was no longer cutting it in terms of allowing him any decent rest. Not that it ever had, it’s just that Lance was getting more and more impatient regarding his lack of amenities. He wanted comfort. Real food. Maybe one of Hunk’s famous dishes….

No time for that, however. Lance glanced around until he saw his provided weapon, a decent looking sniper rifle that would easily cause damage in his capable hands. After all, besides having learned how to survive this long, he was also a paladin of Voltron.

Ex, he reminded himself. Ex-paladin.

Nothing about Voltron mattered now. His ties were severed and he could no longer care what happened to the people he used to call family when he hadn’t even heard a peep about an attempted rescue. He understood, rationally, that it was a smart choice to leave him to die. Paladins were replaceable. The Lions were not, and therefore clearly not worth the risk.

It was fine. He’d learned how to overcompensate (like always) and worked to convince himself he that liked it - The fighting, the attention, the thrill. All of it. Anything that made him feel and allowed him to channel his fury at this ungrateful universe for tearing him apart from his family on Earth, making him feel like he was actually important for once in his damn life, before tearing it all away _again_ and leaving him to die.

He was angry, bloodthirsty, and deadly with a cold rage only a blue ex-paladin could summon.

So when he made eye contact with Keith, who spit on the ground at his appearance, it was easy to feel the adrenaline build into his responding glare as he prepared for a fight.

They charged towards each other, Lance having the upper hand with a long-range weapon as he shot at Keith’s leg, calculating the weak spot in the makeshift armor by his knee. Red, however, saw Lance lift up his rifle and started running in a zig-zag formation that made him impossible to aim at.

Lance swore a nasty string of words only learned by a prisoner of the Galra, and had just seconds to hold up his gun as Keith reached him and swung his sword downward with swift, clear precision.

Keith lifted his blade up again, and Lance took the chance to butt him in the stomach with the side of the rifle before sliding around the shorter boy’s legs so the sword slashed through empty air. Blue sprinted away, feeling his lungs fill with that familiar burn as he made his way across the arena. Keith was forced to put up a chase, and Lance lead him around on a bit of ridiculous run-around before the audience started to boo in boredom.

Fuck. He had to step up his game, or he was as good as dead.

“Just trying to let you all take in this beautiful face!” He shouted towards the stands, winking at one particularly enraptured Galra. At this, the audience roared, somewhat placated but still clearly expecting - no, demanding - blood.

Well, that should be easy. They’d done this enough times. They both knew the routine.

Lance stopped playing around and started pausing to take lethal shots at Keith, who rolled with the shots easily and dodged without error. Damn his quick reflexes, Lance growled to himself. This was getting rather stupid, even he could admit.

In a rather hairbrained move that was quite in line with most of Lance’s decisions, he quickly turned on his heel and ran back towards Keith, who, although slightly startled, sped up as well. When they clashed again, hissing through teeth and sweating profusely, Lance used all his recently built-up strength to try and disarm Red. If his gun was going to be useless, then so was his opponent’s weapon.

“How many times have we done this, huh, Red?” Lance spit out, malice sharpening every word. Keith ignored him, trying a new tactic of constantly moving, feigning left and right to try and get in at least a partial hit. Lance, however, had a different strategy.

“Keep trying, shorty. We all know how this ends.” Blue taunted, never falling for Keith’s feigns as they danced around each other.

“You’re just as annoying as always.” Keith lashed back quietly, clearly focused on finding a weak spot.

“You have more scars since the last time I saw you. Losing your touch, huh? Slowing down in battle?” Lance lunged at his last word, shoving his gun forward and managing a glancing shot that skimmed across Keith’s stomach. Red gasped at the sudden burn, and followed suit with intense slashes that eventually hit their mark and dug deep into Lance’s shooting hand.

Blue dropped his gun and screeched at the pain, blood flying everywhere as the two ex-paladins gave up on their weapons and began tearing into each other in hand-to-hand combat, throwing ugly punches and brutal kicks that left them both spitting blood.

The sand around them was quickly growing darker as sweat and thick blood soaked into the ground. Both boys were beginning to look worse for wear.

Lance now had a deep gash above his eyebrow and a broken nose, trying to alternate between holding his still bleeding wrist and getting in some other good punches.

He swiped back and forth, starting to use boxing moves he’d only seen on TV out of desperation. Keith, despite looking just as bad, did not seem to be showing any signs of giving up or even slowing down. Just as Lance tried to feign around him and catch his breath, a harsh right hook from Red hit him directly in the ribs. They both heard the resounding crack that made them pause in surprise as Lance collapsed onto the ground.

As he lay on the ground, almost blacking out due to the pain, he noticed that Keith had a twisted ankle, bruises forcing both of his eyes closed, and two more gashes on his stomach that probably burned as sweat and sand stuck to him. Lance suddenly felt himself being dragged along, his head pounding from the bright lights, the screams, and the pain. Blood trickled into his eye and for a moment, Lance thought about letting Keith kill him. It wasn’t the first time he’d had that thought, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Lance hadn’t realized he’d banged his head on a rock and blacked out until he came to screaming, Keith’s foot on his torn up wrist.

“Stand up and fight, you pathetic coward!” Keith roared.

Lance heaved a deep breath and jumped up, everything spinning around him as he tried to dodge Keith’s aggressive slashes. Clearly Red had picked up his blade when he’d been unconscious.

Great. Where the hell was his rifle?

The sword hit his side, and Lance instinctively rolled into himself as pain blazed up his already broken ribs, leaving the opportunity for a lethal attack on Keith’s part. As he leaned over panting, however, he saw his gun a few feet away, and made a desperate run for it before Keith could catch up to him. Rolling to the ground, Lance managed to grab his gun, turn around, and take several shots without getting up. Red dodged all but one, taking the last hit in his hip, causing him to crumple as quickly as he’d been sprinting just moments before.

Lance got up, heaving weak breaths in between steps as he took stock of his multiple injuries. Dangerous, but they’d heal. He knew he would survive, even though it felt like his whole body had been put through some of Lotor’s old-fashioned torture methods again.

He slowly dragged himself over to stand above Keith, who’d either blacked out or screwed his eyes shut to prevent himself from watching Lance kill him. A dark pool of blood was quickly spreading out from under him. He looked strangely peaceful, and for a moment, Lance felt jealous.

He still felt jealous, even as he lowered the tip of his gun to rest at Keith’s forehead.

“I win.” He said softly, taking stock of the broken fellow ex-paladin laying on the ground in front of him. He didn’t even notice as Galra guards sprinted in to drag them away. The crowd’s screaming turned into a dull buzz as he was pulled back from the center of the arena.

He couldn’t stop seeing the boy who used to be a kid at the Garrison, just like him.

His rival.

\----------------------------------------

1 Year, 3 Months, 1 Week, 4 Days after Capture

Keith 

 

When Keith woke up in the medic’s room, he felt hungover, like he’d been dragged through a bark chipper, his entire body screaming in pain. Even sitting up made him bite down on his tongue to keep from shouting out.

The room he was stuck in didn’t even count as an infirmary. It was more of a tiny closet with a cabinet of disturbing instruments, a bench, and a cold metal table that Keith had seemingly been placed on. It was quiet, and for that, he was grateful. The screams of Lance and the audience still rung in his ears, and he rubbed at his face trying to scrub the memory of the battle away, every second haunting him.

They’d fought each other so many times now, the two ex-paladins of Voltron. The famous Red and Blue, turned to fight for the Galra as entertainers. They were quite popular when revealed as rivals, and all of their fights sold out crowds. They were infamous throughout the galaxy now, known as brutal, lethal enemies - “Lance and Keith, neck and neck” had become their official tagline since Lance had spit it out in blood during one of Lotor’s particularly brutal torture sessions.

Their captors only kept the boys alive to torture one another and bring in more support from doubtful Galra. Since the return of Voltron, there had been a dangerous amount of dissent among the empire, but subjugating two of the paladins and showcasing not only their lack of the supposed unbreakable bond all pilots of the lions were supposed to have, but their bloodthirsty hatred for each other, worked well for the Galra. In every fight, as soon as it was clear one of them would win, the guards would drag them off the field in whatever state they were in and patch them up until the next fight. Generally they were either removed unconscious and half dead or kicking and screaming for more blood.

That's how the audience liked it best.

The infamous battles of Red and Blue were often interspersed with them battling other long-time prisoners and fighters, always keeping them on their toes and just off-balance enough to prevent ideas of escape. The Galra made it so that all you could think about was survival and how to win the next fight. If you even took a moment to think of anything else, you were as good as dead.

Keith winced as he patted the loose bandaging around his torso. That last bullet had done a number on him. _I wonder how Lance is currently doing with that broken rib_ , he thought numbly, an offhand consideration of how well he’d been fighting. Shiro would have been impressed at some of his tactics. Well, The Champion would have, anyway. The single surviving human of the Galra's fighting rings would be proud. The paladin that took on the role of space dad would be horrified.

 _But he's not here right now,_ Keith thought angrily. 

Some of the more heavy bruising on his eyes had lessened enough to allow him decent vision, and Keith wondered how long he’d been stuck in here.

Just as he considered getting up to find someone to give him food, the ‘doctor’ came in, tuttling and groaning as always. He angrily motioned for Keith to stay sitting down before coming over to inspect the bandages.

Keith stared dully at the lights on the ceiling as he was poked and prodded. There was no use conversing with this creature; he never spoke in English or answered Keith’s questions, instead opting every time for irritated scuttling. It was simply easier to wait to be dismissed, and at this point, he honestly didn’t care anymore about the state of his body. He was going to die sooner rather than later, and he’d made his peace with that. Better not to know how soon it was likely to be, in case he lost motivation before a fight and died too quickly. In those cases, the Galra were known to resuscitate those who had refused to fight or hadn’t put in enough of an effort just to torture them and send them back out.

The incessant scuttling noises suddenly cut off as a footsteps approached the room, followed by an irritated voice.

“Hey doc, I thought you said my wrist would heal after a few days. It still looks pretty ugly though, and I think they’re sending me back in the ring soon so I can’t really afford a dead hand-”

Keith refocused after realizing he’d been dissociating only to look dead into the eyes of the very boy who’d landed him here to begin with.

“Oh.” Lance said flatly, his eyes turned dead and lifeless.

Keith simply pursed his lips and turned his head in the other direction. He wouldn’t give Lance the upper hand.

“Feeling shitty that I beat your ass, huh?” He sounded so damn cocky all the time. Where in the hell did he find the energy to be such a prick after over a year of this shit?

“Fuck you.” Keith spit out, jumping down off the table to launch himself at Lance before being blocked by the beetle-man doctor-creature, who hissed angrily at both of them. They backed away, arms raised, and Keith fought the wave of unconsciousness at the edge of his vision.

“Am I done here?” Keith asked the doctor, trying to keep his voice level. The doctor responded with a nod and a chirp, so Red took his leave and made for the door.

“Whatever. It’s not my fault he’s a sore loser.” Lance tossed towards his opponent’s back bitterly. Keith ignored him and continued out, met by a guard who instantly handcuffed him before starting the long trek back to his cell, which waited for him the way his cabin in the desert had for a similarly shitty year: cold, lonely, and filled with a deep silence that permeated throughout his body more than any pain or chill ever could.

\-----------------------------------------------

1 Year, 3 Months, 1 Week, 4 Days after Capture

Lance 

Late into the evening, right after the 4th patrol and during the longest lull in between guard watches, Lance snuck out of his cell with a practiced ease and headed for the kitchens, which were always completely dead at this hour. Early on in his capture, when he prowled around at night trying to map out the ship and plan an escape, he’d come upon the backstock of meals provided to the prisoners and even some of the higher quality food that was given to the soldiers. At the time, he’d been absolutely starving and managed to get completely sidetracked in his mission by his attempt to stuff himself with as much food as possible.

As it turned out, this adventure saved his life. 

One thing he could always count on to have as an advantage over his opponents was being at least somewhat well-fed. While all prisoners were given the same shitty small two meals a day, Lance had found a way to sneak food back into his cell and add it to his meals to help him keep up strength and some muscle mass.

Plus, his regular trips to the closest stuff that qualified as good here was basically the only thing keeping him emotionally stable.

He crept around the halls and the corners, a well-practiced route that avoided all cameras and the possibility of any guards, although most were asleep, drunk, or, most likely, both, by this time of night. Lance moved slightly faster than was probably safe, but he was _starving_. Trying to heal the wide variety of broken shit in his body had took a serious toll on him. The desperation for even half of a real meal had been driving him up the wall.

Finally, he reached the back entrance of the stock room and burst in, immediately inhaling deeply and enjoying the scent of day-old bread and dried fruit. The opportunity for free food was worth the risk, every damn time. Lance reached towards the back of a corner shelf to grab some packets, tearing them open with his teeth and pouring the contents into his mouth without hesitation. He probably looked like an animal, but he couldn’t give a damn. He temporarily stopped breathing in order to eat more and faster, crouching low to the ground.

The door creaked behind him, and Lance spun around as he stood up, pulling out his hidden knife from the back of his pants.

Keith stood in front of him, wide-eyed and just as frozen, but surprisingly not startled.

"Close the fucking door," Lance hissed quietly, turning back around to grab his dropped food.

Keith did as he stepped closer to move out of the doorway.

"Well?" Lance demanded.

"I wasn't followed." Keith said, his voice too easily betraying his exhaustion.

“Are you-” Lance started, still trying to inhale as much food as possible as food flew out of his mouth along with his words.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Keith rolled his eyes. “Stop eating that so quickly, you’re going to choke.”

Lance swallowed quietly and the two stared at each other for a moment, only a few feet between them.

They studied each other, both taking in the other. Keith looked dead on his feet and paler than usual, his dark hair contrasting his light skin to an alarming extent. The bruises mottled his entire face, and his previously white bandage around his torso was dark with blood and dirt already. He wore the same prisoner's suit that Lance did, and Blue was sure he looked like a similar mess. Keith's usually sharp, dark purple eyes looked searchingly into his.

It was dead silent for an entire minute.

Lance was the first to move forward and reach out, grabbing Keith’s face towards him into a harsh, desperate kiss that tried to relay everything he felt in that moment - sorrow, anger, regret, and the bone-deep guilt that followed every one of their battles.

He wanted to bring life to Keith's eyes again.

Red easily returned the sentiment, and it was a very minutes before they separated, both wincing in pain, foreheads resting against each other as they breathed heavily.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so -” Lance choked out, his voice cracking just slightly as his hands slid down to grab the back of Keith’s head and neck. He tried to support both of their weight, but Keith wouldn’t let him as he moved his hands to Lance’s waist, where he left them, firm and grounding. The taller boy inhaled between his teeth lightly, his ribs still cracked.

“Shut up. You did everything I asked you too - you survived.” Keith murmured determinedly, clearly fighting to stay upright. “You were amazing.” He went for another kiss, wanting to leave no room for argument, but Blue was just as stubborn.

“Keith. I shot you.” Lance said angrily, jostling the other boy just slightly for emphasis. 

“And I broke your ribs.” Keith reminded him harshly as he flinched at the pain, although it was clear that the anger was directed inwards and not at Lance. He wouldn’t look Blue in the eyes for a moment.

Lance tried to open his mouth to keep arguing, but Keith moved faster and resumed kissing him aggressively. Blue backed him into the wall and followed suit, although he tried to slow down as he kissed along Red’s jawline very gently, careful not to leave any marks. At least, no more than he already had.

He tried not to think about the horrible wounds they’d both inflicted on each other just days earlier. He hadn’t even realized he’d started crying until Keith moved away, trying to hold Lance’s face.

“Hey, hey,” Keith said frantically as he tried to wipe the tears away. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything.” Lance whispered, the word wobbling out. He leaned into the shorter boy’s open arms and nestled his head into the crook between Keith’s shoulder and neck, taking a deep breath. They wrapped their arms around each other and held the other together tightly, silent for a moment as they tracked each other’s breathing.

“Your hair still smells good.” Keith said absentmindedly, as if it was simply a passing thought and they were simply boyfriends hiding in a school closet to make out, instead of where they really were - a Galra fighting ring, forced to do everything in their power to try and murder each other for their captor’s entertainment, not to mention keep up the facade that they hated each other.

Lance couldn't help but laugh at the insanity of it all.

“Thanks, I guess.” He paused for a moment. Usually, and in better circumstances, he would try to make a joke about furries and special animal Galra soap, but his heart hurt too much. “What exactly does it smell like?”

“You.” Keith said, his grip on Lance tightening protectively. Blue responded with the hiccup-sigh that always follows tears, trying to remember this brief moment in which he genuinely felt safe.

“I can’t keep doing this, Keith.” He screwed his eyes shut as he choked out the words. “I’m losing my mind.”

“You can, and you will.” Red’s voice was steel, forged by the fire of everything they’d been through over the past year. His eyes raged with intensity as he moved the other boy's head to make direct eye contact with him.  “Lance. Promise me you will.”

The closet’s lights were as dim as possible without being off, and there was no sound but the distant thrum and creaking of a ship in motion. The food around them had lost their appetizing smell. How much longer could Lance pretend? How much longer could he find the will to survive, especially if it continued at the cost of Keith’s health?

“I promise.” His voice was finally steady and emotionless, the way it always was when he lied.

They continued to hold each other tightly for as long as possible, each wondering how much longer they had before they wouldn't come out of a battle alive.

 


	3. Purple & Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Red and Blue were infamous enemies, they were two allies captured on a mission.

4 Days After Capture

Keith

Keith crossed his arms and leaned against the corner of the dark cell, grimacing as he watched Lance pace back and forth in front of him. 

“Lance, stop. You’re freaking me out.” Keith asked, irritation lacing his voice. He just wanted to get off of this damn Galra ship and out of this tiny ass cell, but unfortunately, both their escape attempts so far had been foiled, and there was still no of a sign of rescue from the rest of Voltron.

“No, Keith, I can’t! I’m losing my mind here! Where are they? What’s taking them so long? It never takes Pidge this long to track anything. What if something happened to them? What’s going to happen to us?” Lance ranted, furious as he continued pacing, stomping loudly.

“I don’t know, but you’re wasting your energy by pacing like that. We need to come up with another plan -”

“Like what?! We’ve already tried everything!” Lance turned to face Keith, his hair mussed and eyes wild with a genuine panic that the Red Paladin had never seen on his face before. It made him deeply uncomfortable, but he tried to calm the boy in front of him down anyway.

  
“No, we haven’t. There’s always another option, we just have to figure out what it is. Besides, I’m sure the rest of the team will be here any time now.” Even as he tried to speak confidently, Keith could feel his suredness waver with exhaustion. Lance was right, it never took them this long to rescue one another. What if something  _ had _ happened?

Lance took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair, only succeeding in making it look crazier. “You’re right. Plus, we saw them escape through that wormhole, right? And no one followed them. And Hunk managed to grab Blue….” Lance trailed off awkwardly as Keith growled. Unfortunately, Red had fallen into Galra hands along with the two rivaling paladins, something Keith was furious about. 

But they weren’t allowed to talk about it.

Lance and Keith lapsed into silence, neither one sure what to say and both feeling too pent up to try and comfort the other.

Usually Lance was hopeful (if cocky) about a situation like this. And usually, Keith had an extra plan up his sleeve (even if it was a suicidal one).  

But something was different about this capture, and the unease in the air was quickly turning to panic for both of the boys.

Keith eyed Lance as the latter continued his pacing, and for a moment, Red saw his youngness reflected back to him. While chosen Paladins of Voltron, they were also 18 year old teens in space who had no idea what the fuck they were doing.

What exactly was the Galra’s plan for them?

“We’ve got this. We can do anything. We’re the Paladins of Voltron.” Lance began chanting to himself quietly. Keith found it slightly grating, but also didn’t want to interrupt anything that could keep Lance grounded, calm, and most importantly, quieter. Keith always found it hard to think over Lance’s constant chatter, but this time he did his best.

“Plus, we make a pretty good team.” Keith murmured, offering the familiar sentence as a peace offering between the two. They stood no chance of getting out if they argued or picked fights with each other. Lance stopped again, looking up with an attempted smirk. 

“Yeah, we do. We got this. We just need to stick together.” Lance said, shrugging as if all the problems of just moments ago never existed. Keith repeated the motion, smiling a little despite himself as he nodded in agreement.

Lance furrowed his brow for a moment, looking questioningly at Keith. The shorter boy was just about to open his mouth and ask him what the hell he was staring at, when the stomping of a guard interrupted them. They both looked instinctively toward the cell door, the panic returning. Two large Galra, clearly the muscle of this operation, announced their presence loudly with their mockery of the prisoners in the neighboring cells. Upon reaching Keith and Lance’s prison, one of them tossed two pairs of handcuffs into the cell.

“Put these on. Now.” The one closer barked at them, glaring at the two troublesome Paladins. After multiple escape attempts, the guards had stopped pretending to play their games.

Nervous, Lance and Keith complied, and before they could blink, the guards had opened the cells, grabbed them, and begun to roughly drag the paladins down the hall despite their yelps of protest and pain. They’d sustained a few injuries from the initial battle that had landed them here, and the cuffs didn’t feel too great on their wrists either, eventually cutting deep into their skin from the forcefulness with which the Galra pulled them along, blood dripping slowly on the floor behind them. Keith growled indignantly at the pain, but Lance remained quiet. He looked over at him, and saw that Lance’s brown skin was concerning pale, and he shaking just enough that only someone who’d been training with him for almost a year now would recognize his fear. Still, it pulled at an animalistic instinct in Keith. Lance needed to stay stable; neither of them could afford for him to lose it. The Blue Paladin, however, refused to make eye contact with Red.

Just as Keith was trying to recall any helpful survival information on how to stay calm when captured by large purple space fascists from the Garrison, the guards pulled them up to the front of an ominous black door.

The one holding Lance knocked somewhat timidly on the door, as if slightly intimidated by what lay behind it.

Keith’s stomach roiled and twisted into knots. What sort of hell awaited them? More importantly, how long could he and Lance last? 

“Enter.” A voice slithered through the door, the amused tone sharp and deadly.

As the door opened slowly, Keith saw Lance stiffen out of the corner of his eye. The Red Paladin screwed his eyes shut.  _ Please pull it together, Lance. We can survive this. Just don’t do something stupid. _

“What up, ya Malfoy-looking motherfucker? Got tired of tormenting kids and decided to try on the Paladins of Voltron for size?” 

Like that.

“Damn it, Lance.” Keith swore vehemently under his breath. Why did he have to get stuck with the dumbest Paladin for the mission that landed them here?

As Keith growled lowly and surveyed the scene before him, it was clear that the terrified Lance of two seconds ago was completely gone, the cocky and arrogant Blue Paladin now in his place, ready to throw down. He was smiling at the Galra in front of them, the upturn of his mouth not quite reaching his eyes and giving him as deadly look. Lance’s opponent, however, was completely unfazed. Returning the smirk with a more eerily genuine excitement, Lotor stepped down from his dais and approached the Paladins. Of course he was the one behind all this.

The room was an enormous cavern that made every noise echo tenfold, reverberating through the bones of everyone inside. A variety of glinting, sharp technology was placed around the room, with a dais in the center. On top, it looked like a true prince’s lounge, with couches, food, and Lotor’s team of female aliens eyeing Lance and Keith warily as they worked on something hidden from the Paladins’ view. It was a strange combination, this bright majestic lounge and the medieval yet futuristic torture chamber, and it only worked to unsettle Keith further.

“Hello, Lance. Always such a pleasure.” Lotor grinned like a cheshire cat, clearly making his way towards Blue at this point. Keith tried to jump in front of Lance, but the guard just restrained him tighter, Red wincing in response.

“Oooh, and this must be the famous Keith I’ve heard about. Seems as if he’s ready for a fight. Truly living up to the role of the Red Paladin, I see.” Even as he said those words, Lotor’s eyes never strayed from Lance’s face. Eventually he reached his target, and stretched out his hand to put a finger under the lanky boy’s chin. Lance, to his credit, only glared in response, never flinching.  

“What do you want from us, Lotor?” Keith spit out angrily, trying to get this whole interaction over with. The farther away they both were from this creep, the better.

“I just want the power of Voltron - information, names, the Lions. Your team, obviously. Everything. I think you’ll find that this is a reasonable request relatively quickly.” Lotor finally turned to face Keith, the smile gone from his face. He strode over quickly to Red, grabbing the boy’s throat and squeezing tightly. Keith tried not to panic as he felt his feet lift off the ground, never breaking his glare at the overdressed Galra cutting off his air supply. “Tell me everything you know about Voltron, or you will see exactly what I have planned for you both.”

Keith began to see black spots and tried to twist free from Lotor’s grip, his handcuffed wrists stuck uselessly behind him. As he started to lose consciousness, he heard Lance yell.

“We’ll never tell you anything! You’re dumber than I thought if you think you even remotely scare the Paladins of Voltron.” Lance tried to puff out his chest, and Keith managed to roll his eyes before being suddenly dropped to the ground. He heaved in loud breaths and tried to refocus. Lance was going to get them both killed a hell of a lot quicker if he didn’t learn to shut up. 

Lotor paused for a moment, his now empty hand still frozen in the air. He tilted his head, as if calmly choosing what he would like to eat for dinner rather than the fate of two of the most important people in the universe. 

Two people with whom the fate of the galaxy rested.

He chose just as casually as he would have his meal.

“Give Lance to Haggar. I’ll keep Keith and we’ll have some fun of our own.” In a move startlingly fast given his tendency towards the slow prowl of a cat, Lotor effortlessly picked up Keith by his jacket and dragged him towards a table as the guards similarly dragged Lance back towards the large doors. Startled and frozen in fear, all the two boys could do was look at each other as the door began to close in their faces, wondering if this was it for them both. Dying alone, painfully, tortured by the creatures that were determined to invade and destroy every planet they set their eyes upon. The roaring in Keith’s ears made everything move slowly and silently, with the Red Paladin stuck powerlessly in another’s grasp.

Lance tried to give Keith a weak smile before he disappeared completely. Keith thought he may have screamed.

Lotor, however, quickly put an end to that, covering Keith’s mouth with a purple hand. 

“Shhhh...There’s no use in that nonsense now. It’s just us, and we’re going to have a delightful time.” Lotor swished away, pulling the Red Paladin with him. Keith soon found himself unceremoniously dumped on a flat silver table, and strapped down before he could catch his breath.

“What are you going to do to him?” Keith tried to growl threateningly, but his voice cracked slightly at the end. There had never been a time when Voltron took this long for a rescue, and he was starting to think both he and Lance were truly fucked. The image of Shiro’s prosthetic arm and the sound of his screams from nightmares flashed through Keith’s mind, and he had to close his eyes to prevent a full-blown panic attack.

“Lance? Oh, Haggar’s going to have some fun with him. See, we have lots of plans for the both of you, and it starts with wiping Lance’s memory.” Lotor walked over to Keith and looked him directly in the eyes, emotionless and unreadable for once. “As for you, well…”

Keith felt a needle jab into his arm and he winced, before feeling a horrible burning sensation begin to twist and slice through every nerve in his body.

This time, Keith knew for sure he was screaming as everything turned black.

 


	4. Black & Blank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red just needs to hold out until Lance can figure out a rescue plan.

4 Days After Capture

Lance

As the Blue Paladin was dragged away from his only ally on this godforsaken ship, Lance tried to summon a weak smile of encouragement before losing view of the mullet-haired boy he was so desperately - and secretly - fond of. He closed his eyes and allowed the panic to take over for a minute before shoving all of his emotions away. He couldn’t think of of the angsty, hot tempered Red Paladin that would take a bullet for any of Voltron in a heartbeat. He especially couldn’t think of his growing crush on him, and how it was getting harder and harder to pretend like they were rivals.

He needed to focus on how to survive whatever would come next.

He prayed to whoever was listening that Keith would be protected, and let himself get dragged around the corner. Right after the turn, however, he heard the faint howl of a boy in agonizing pain, and felt his body seize up with the urge to do something, eyes welling up in sympathetic pain. The Galra holding him simply tightened their grip, and as they pushed him into another room, the screams faded into the background. Lance, hating himself for already giving in, pretended he’d never heard them in the first place. 

He did, however, vow to do whatever it took to survive. He would save Keith, no matter the cost.

Red just needed to hold out until Lance could form a rescue plan.

He surveyed the room in front of him. It was bare, save for a large shelf of vials and containers against the right wall, each holding a vibrant color of something alien. He stiffened as he suddenly felt the presence of Haggar as she entered from a different door. 

“I thought I asked for the Red Paladin.” She snapped, causing the shelf to shake. Haggar had the ghostly presence of someone between life and death; someone who shouldn’t exist at all.

“Lotor said he captured the Red Lion, and that tampering with its Paladin could cause potential trouble.” One of the Galra guards stated uneasily. Lance just about opened his mouth to correct him, when he realized keeping his mouth shut meant an advantage: he knew something his captors did not. But he was also gambling with the odds by assuming that he was currently in more danger than Keith. He just hoped he wouldn’t lose. 

“Why haven’t they figured out how to turn those damn things off?” Haggar muttered, furious. “Well, I guess he’ll have to do. Chain him up.”

As Lance was shoved towards the back wall, the heavy metal chains that had escaped his attention before certainly grabbed at his growing panic now. He tried to move away. “I’ve always known I was popular, and frankly, I’m flattered, but I’m not really into the whole bondage thing - “

“SILENCE.” She screamed, rushing forward to pin Lance to the wall. “You will be quiet. You will behave. Or you will regret it,” she hissed, backing away as the guards chained him up.

“See, here’s the thing. Me and my talking are a package deal. Never been able to separate the two. If you could, my mom would have figured out how to years ago.” Lance chattered on, trying to hide his fear as he broke out in a cold sweat. He needed to stay strong. What would Keith do? What would Shiro do? Damn it, why did Lance have to get stuck on this mission? He was the cool ninja sharpshooter, not the escape artist!

“I. Said. QUIET.” Haggar’s voice was quieter than before, but the boom of its power rattled Lance’s bones.

“And I just said, I can’t -” He felt a searing pain at the base of his head, and grit his teeth against the pain that ripped through his skull. Against his will, he gasped for air, trying to find a release of the pain. 

Another wave hit, and he was blinded by the searing heat hitting the base of his neck. “What are you doing to me?!” He screamed.

“Gag him.” The druid witch motioned for the guards, and soon Lance found himself unable to speak, quickly losing consciousness as his vision went blurry from the pain.

He soon felt himself drifting, the pain become distant as Lance fell into a trance-like state. All of his thoughts, plans, and memories seemed to lose substance as they drifted away from his grasp, and for a moment the Blue Paladin felt a sort of numb peace. Maybe this is what death felt like. If so, it was perfectly okay with him…..whoever he was. Who was he? Why couldn’t he remember?

It didn’t feel like it mattered anymore as he fell into the blackness, hearing the far away roar of his furious Red Lion. He grinned. He couldn’t remember anything else except that despite the blue on his uniform, he had been made the pilot of the Red Lion a little less than a week ago. The Galra were a little behind on their information. 

He felt a slight stab of regret that Keith would be left alone, and that he would never get to profess his feelings. His instinct told him that if anyone could survive the Galra, however, it would be stubborn boy who survived in a desert for a year out of sheer spite.

Darkness with a shimmer of red began to envelope him, and he felt protected. Safe. Whatever had been working to hurt him before could no longer touch him under the protection of Red. 

Red……

Lance felt heavily drugged as he came to, unsure what exactly had happened. What had Haggar been trying to do to him?

_ The witch was trying to wipe your memory _ , Red supplied furiously.  _ I wish I could come save you, small one, but I am trapped. The best I can do is protect your mind. _

Lance felt relief rush through him and almost laughed.  _ That’s more than enough, Red. You’re the  _ _ best. _ He reassured her, trying to send a message as he envisioned himself giving her a hug. He felt the vibrations of a purr echo through his mind.

_ Be careful.  _ She warned.  _ I can only do so much. _

Lance grimaced.  _ I’ll save you, Red. I promise.  _ He felt her presence fade to a far away corner of his mind, continuing to fight off whatever Haggar had put in his system, as his eyes fluttered open.

He took a gasping breath, internally laughing at his mother for her constant scolding that one day, his dramatic tendencies would get him in trouble. She hadn’t been wrong, exactly, but in this particular case, they would save his life. Thank the gods for high school theater and teen Lance’s desperate need for attention.

“Do you know who you are?” Haggar peered into Lance’s eyes, and he cowered away.

“No...Who are you? What am I doing here? Why am I in chains?” Lance began to panic, shaking and cowering in pretend confusion. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could get some tears going as well. Although, as he thought that idea through a little more, that probably wouldn’t help his situation. Haggar didn’t seem like the type to take pity on emotions.

The witch grinned slowly, like a cheshire cat. “Excellent.”

“Who are you?” Lance screamed, rattling at his chains. “Wait...Who am I? Why can’t I remember anything?!” 

The druid smirked and walked away. “You will find out soon enough. But my work is done - it’s time for the Prince to come and teach you what you need to know.”

_ Great,  _ Lance thought, rolling his eyes internally.  _ Another one with a flare for the dramatic. Guess I’ll have to up my game. _

Haggar disappeared as quickly as she’d come, and Lance only had moments to breathe before Lotor strode in, confident, charismatic, and calm. In a different environment, Lance would even be tempted to claim he was trying to be friendly. 

It set every one of his nerves on edge. 

He grit his teeth anyway, and thought of Keith. He needed to do whatever it took to survive.

Lance widened his eyes and cowered against the wall as Lotor moved closer.

“Who are  _ you? _ Will someone please explain to me what’s going on here? I’m so confused...I can’t remember anything.” Lance rambled, fully embracing the frightened facade that wasn’t actually buried too deep at the moment. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, and started shaking every so slightly. Lotor ate it up, moving slowly with his hands out in front of him like Lance was a frightened animal.

“Don’t worry, I’m here to help you. I won’t hurt you. My name is Lotor,” He almost cooed at the Blue Paladin, who felt slightly disgusted at the situation unfolding before him. Was he really going to have to treat this obnoxious Galra prince as a savior?

“Please, just tell me what’s going on.” Lance begged, hating how easily his voice cracked. “Why am I in chains?”

“You were becoming dangerous to us and to yourself. We had to do it for safety reasons. Once you’ve proven you’re fine again, we’ll let you go.” The prince reassured him, now standing only inches away. He took a breath before sitting down in front of Lance. “Do you remember anything?”

Fuck. If he said he didn’t remember anything at all, that would probably be too suspicious. He’d have to play his cards just right.

“I...I remember fighting. I don’t remember who I was fighting or...or if I was fighting with other people, but I remember battles. And…” Lance hesitated. How much personal information should he share? He needed to prove his supposed vulnerability without actually creating it. “I remember a beach. And….a home. But I can’t remember my own name, or what I’m doing here!” He cried out.

Lotor exhaled what had clearly been some concern, and smiled gently. “Don’t worry, I’m going to help you remember all of that. Let’s start with the basics - your name is Lance, and you and I work together to help save the galaxy.”

Lance felt his stomach drop. He was so. Fucking. Screwed.

  
  



	5. Yellow & Yearning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance reunite after time spent apart in the Galra's hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!! Thank you all so much for reading this, not to mention your lovely comments! It's been a super fun project and I have a lot of cool ideas planned out for it; I'm excited to see what ya'll think. As I get further with this story, I may end up going back and editing some of the older chapters, but I'll definitely post a heads-up when that happens so nothing's confusing :) Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter (and feel free to yell at me in the comments) <3

2 Months, 1 Weeks, 5 Days after Capture

 

Keith

 

Keith was exhausted. 

He’d lost track of time by this point, only aware of the fact that his life now only consisted of different forms of torture. Haggar was constantly trying to get inside his head, digging around to get information about Voltron. He was surprised - and grateful - that they had yet to move to other forms of torture, but the Galra were always insistent he was not to be physically harmed, something that made him uneasy. Still, their mind games were just as horribly painful and brutal as any other kind of torture, and Keith was extremely close to giving in. He was strong, but even the stubborn Red Paladin had a breaking point. He didn’t even know if the other members of Voltron were still alive. For all Keith knew, he could be dying to protect something that no longer existed.

On the other hand, if they were still alive, he would never be able to forgive himself if he was the reason the Galra gained an advantage and finally succeeded in conquering the whole galaxy. 

But as he continued to struggle against the bonds holding him to the table, screaming as he fought another dose of whatever new concoction Haggar had cooked up to cause hallucinations and nightmares, Keith knew he would give in soon. He just hoped Voltron would be strong enough to overcome whatever weakness he’d create.

Haggar pulled the Red Paladin back from the darkness, and he could feel her attempt to pull the quintessence out of him once more. 

“Damn it. You’re not even fully human, this should have worked by now!” The druid witch screeched, causing Keith to wince in pain. His whole body was drenched in sweat, and he rested his head against the cold surface, closing his eyes as another wave of bone-deep exhaustion and pain swept over him.

Suddenly, a chill washed over his face, and he opened his eyes to see Haggar peering at him intensely. Keith tried to hide behind his overgrown bangs, afraid of what her next plans were. He’d long since realized talking, or asking any questions whatsoever, only ended up spelling trouble. If he hadn’t been screaming so much, he wouldn’t even be sure that his voice still worked.

“Perhaps Lotor was right. Let’s try something else, for once.” She muttered, turning around as the bonds holding Keith to the table dropped away. He crumpled to the floor immediately, no strength left to even try and brace his fall.

It was silent for a moment, save for his shallow breathing, and Keith tried to get his body to stand up and escape. But all his energy was sapped, and he could do little but rest on the cold, metallic floor, hoping for once that they’d let him sleep. He felt numb and emotionless, easily molded to the Galra’s will.

“Get up.” Haggar hissed, pulling him up with her magic. Keith stood awkwardly, like a broken rag doll, strung up only by the dark tendrils of corrupted quintessence that shot out of the druid’s hands. His head lolled back, and he waited lifelessly for whatever would happen next. He didn’t have the energy to care anymore. For all intensive purposes, Keith was already dead. He had been stuck in this room for what felt like an endless number of days, enduring torture after torture. Nothing could bring his will to live back from the dark recesses of his mind, where it hid and protected every thought about Voltron.

Except, perhaps, the person who casually strode through the opening doors of the chamber. 

_ Lance. _

Keith’s head snapped back up, and with wide, shocked eyes, he looked closer at the boy in front of him.

_ How the hell is he still alive? _

Lance looked….good. Well-groomed, well-rested. He looked strong as he stepped in, although the way he carried himself was different. He no longer sauntered with the carelessness of a teenaged boy, but with the reserved purpose of a diplomat or soldier. His clothes matched that of the higher-up Galra generals.

_ This has to be a trick. Another hallucination.  _ Keith thought desperately. Just because he looked fine physically didn’t mean the Galra hadn’t done a number on him, and some dark part of Keith hoped the real Lance had died a long time ago instead of enduring anything similar to what he himself had been through. Besides, why was he wearing their uniform?

But, at the same time, Keith was also desperately - selfishly - hoping that this was his Lance; that they had both managed to stay alive over the past however many weeks. Maybe there was still a possibility of escape after all.

When Lance looked over at Keith, he recognized the intense blue flash of his eyes and felt, for the first time since their capture, the possibility of hope.

However, the fury and hatred those same blazing eyes now directed at him immediately killed the relieved laugh in his throat.

_ Something’s not right.  _ Keith’s mind chanted, dread immediately spinning through him.  _ What did they do to you? _

“Haggar.” Lance greeted her peacefully, giving her a nod. “Lotor said you wanted to see me. What is  _ he _ -” Lance motioned toward Keith, “doing here?” 

Keith felt confusion and panic creep in as he began to sweat anxiously, still caught in the grips of Haggar’s magic.

“We have not been able to break him yet. I know seeing him must be difficult for you, but we need you to interrogate him. Perhaps your strength and intelligence will be the edge we’ve needed.” Haggar spoke in a tone that came the closest to non-threatening that Keith had ever heard from her. What the hell was going on?!

“I’d really rather not. We both know what he did to me.” Lance spoke icily, shooting another look of hatred at the Red Paladin, who looked back with such visceral pain and bewilderment that it made the taller boy uncomfortable, causing him to look away first.

“I know, but we are desperately in need of any information we can get out of him. We need your help to serve our cause.” Haggar persisted. Lance hesisted, then nodded, a steel glint in his eyes.

“Alright. But I’ll need the room.” Lance said briskly, walking over to the wall of potions.

“Of course. We’ll be watching to make sure he doesn’t hurt you.” Haggar bowed, then began to walk out.

Lance snorted, still looking through the vials. “I doubt he could even get a scratch on me.”

Haggar left, and Keith dropped to the ground as her magic disappeared with her. He managed to stay on his feet this time, albeit unsteadily, and stood frozen, still shocked by the boy in front of him.

“Lance?” He whispered. He hated how broken his voice sounded. He blamed it on the rawness of his throat from screaming.

Lance finally turned around, studying Keith with the removed, flat look of a predator. 

“Keith.” Why did he say his name like that? With such...hatred? What could he have possibly done since the last time they saw each other to piss Lance off? Was he angry that Keith hadn’t been able to rescue him sooner?

“Lance, I don’t know what they’ve done to you, but I’ve been trying to find a way out of here since we were separated -” Keith was suddenly cut off by a punch in the face and black spots shooting across his vision. Did Lance just  _ punch  _ him? “What the fuck-”

Lance had shot across the room and now held the weakened Red Paladin against a wall, one hand around the shorter boy’s throat, the other pinning his right arm to his body. Keith clawed weakly with his free left hand. It was useless; Lance had clearly kept up with his training while Keith had been stuck being tortured every day.

“You killed my family.” Lance snarled, rage and pure hatred lighting up his face.

“ _ What? _ Lance, what are you talking about?” Keith choked out, terror vibrating through his body as he struggled to get free.

“You and that  _ Voltron  _ killed them and took me away. I know what you’re trying to do. I know you’re trying to take over the galaxy.” Lance spit out, tightening his grip. He let Keith’s right arm go, and whipped out a knife from some hidden pocket in his uniform, holding it to the Red Paladin’s stomach. “Tell me everything you know.”

“Wha - Lance, it’s me! Voltron isn’t trying to take over the galaxy, we’re trying to save it!” Keith’s eyes began to well up as he gasped for air, but Lance just laughed bitterly.

“That’s exactly what Lotor told me you’d say. What other lies are you going to try to convince me of? That we’re on the same team? That you’ll try to save me?” The blade was dangerously close to breaking through Keith’s skin, and he stifled a cry of pain.

“ _ Yes. _ Don’t you remember the mission that landed us here? We were taken by Lotor and he clearly messed with your head or something. You and I were sent to do recon for the planet of Elrexhia, but the Galra intercepted us.” Keith babbled, trying to buy himself time to escape from Lance’s grasp. 

“Bullshit. Your story is pathetic.” Lance scoffed, and slashed the blade across the other boy’s stomach. Keith yelped as blood began to seep through his clothes and drip onto the floor. It wasn’t dangerously deep, but it did still burn, and he had been more startled than anything to find out that Lance - his Lance - was somewhere far gone, some evil, brainwashed version of him in his place.

“Lance, please! Try and remember me. We’re both Paladins of Voltron. We’re on the same team. I didn’t kill your family, they’re still alive! You gotta remember - what about our bonding moment?” Keith begged, earning him a hard punch to the shin and gut that sent him keeling over in blinding pain. Was that a rib that cracked?

“Tell me everything you know about Voltron.” Lance sounded dangerous, and Keith no longer hesitated to believe that if given the opportunity, this boy known around Voltron as the comic relief that he used to joke around with just a few months ago would kill him.

“We know the same things! I don’t know what you want me to tell you,” Keith wheezed, trying to speak clearly through the pain. 

“You’ve been holding back from us. You have information we need.” Lance’s voice went monotone as he loomed over Keith, pinning him to the floor with the point of the sword previously strapped to his back.

“Whatever it is you’re talking about, I won’t say anything. I’ll never give up our family!” Keith spit on the ground and rolled onto his side. 

“Pathetic. Weak. Useless. They’re not coming to rescue you, you know. You might as well do yourself a favor and join our side. Instead of making yourself more miserable.” Lance circled him like he was no more than prey.

“No. I’m not going to. Kill me if you have to. But Lance, this isn’t you.” Keith tried to reason with him, choking back tears. He couldn't be gone. If Keith had only been able to escape, if only Voltron had been able to rescue them sooner, if only, if only, if only  - “Look at me, and try to remember, damn it! You’re the cool ninja sharpshooter, and...and I’m your samurai!” The words stuttered out of him as he curled into himself, fighting the pain. 

For a moment, Keith thought he saw a glimmer of recognition and regret hidden in the blue depths of Lance’s eyes. But then the taller boy lunged with a snarl, and Keith’s vision went dark.

\--------------------------------------------------------

3 Months Before Capture

 

“Anyway, so then I used one of my classic pick up lines on her, but she just sneered and walked away! Super rude, right? Like, it’s not  _ my _ fault I didn’t know that guys initiating conversations with women was insulting in their culture or whatever! So of course Shiro got on my ass about reading the informational packets before the missions, but I think I handled my way out of the situation pretty smoothly, and - Keith, are you even listening to me?” Lance squawked, clearly offended at being ignored. He kept his eyes forward though, focused on navigating the Blue Lion through the asteroid belt ahead of them. Keith stood next to him, studying his Marmora blade for the third time that day. He kept thinking he’d made the whole thing up, and and was always either reaching for it in his sheath or actually holding it since he’d found out. It had become a habit that grounded him in his new reality of being part-Galra. He shivered, and tried to pay attention to the Paladin piloting them. 

“No, sorry. I was - distracted.” Keith muttered, trying to force himself to put the blade back. Lance was quiet.

“It’s not like you to apologize. Something must be really on your mind. What’s up?” He sounded level-headed and serious for once, to Keith’s surprise. Maybe Shiro’s emotional maturity was finally rubbing off on him.

“Nothing, I just..” He hesitated to even bring it up. It was an extremely sensitive subject around the castle, and he hated to make things worse. “I just feel like my whole world view has changed. Like...my whole identity was contained in this knife and I didn’t even know it. Everything’s different now.” He blurted awkwardly. 

Lance was silent for a moment, and Keith felt the blood rush to his face in humiliation. “It’s stupid, I know. Let’s just forget I said anything.” He stopped as Lance grabbed his arm, still sitting in the pilot’s chair.

“Dude. Stop. It’s not stupid. I was just trying to figure out the right thing to say.” Lance turned around to look into the agitated boy’s eyes. “Everything you said makes sense, okay? It’s a lot for anyone to go through. But that’s why you’ve got us.” He said assuredly.

Keith still felt jittery and vulnerable. “But...I’m part Galra. I mean, I guess I’ve always been, so it’s not like anything should change, but why can’t I get my head to wrap around that part?”

The lanky pilot shrugged. “Because there’s a difference between knowing something logically and knowing something in your heart, I guess. That doesn’t make it bad. You just need time to adjust.”

“But that’s stupid, and weak, and -” 

Lance flipped a few switches on the dashboard before jumping up and slapping a hand over the shorter boy’s mouth. “Nope.” He said with some forced cheer. “No more of that.” Keith growled, brow furrowing, but the Blue Paladin continued. “There’s no use judging your own feelings. My Mami always said that you feel what you feel, and you deal how you deal. As long as you’re not hurting anyone, you just gotta let it be. So stop being all angsty, and focus on the fact that we’re about to go to a party!” He grinned, bright-eyed and all genuine joy. Keith felt some of his anger fade away as the beautiful boy in front of him continued to smile. 

After realizing that he needed to respond, however, he bit Lance’s hand. 

“WHAT THE HELL, MAN?” Lance screeched, jumping back.

“You put your hand there, dude, not me.” Keith smirked, easily pushing Lance back into the pilot’s seat and effectively ending their emotional bonding moment.

“You’re mean. Here I am, being a great friend, and you bite me. Asshole.” Lance grumbled, clearly sulking.

“Just focus on driving, sharpshooter.” Keith smiled a little despite himself as they neared their destination.

After having split up to work on smaller missions in teams, Lance and Keith had been ordered to meet back up with the others on the planet Ilryu, where they were supposed to represent Voltron at a large, annual celebration of some local holiday. Lance, as always, was eager to flirt, dance, and eat as much food as possible. Keith, less so. Nevertheless, he’d started to enjoy watching Lance in his element - it was so rare that any of them had the chance to have fun, and Keith always found himself a little happier by extension whenever Lance was in a good mood. 

As they landed Blue on the hot, dirty planet by the other lions in the previously designated location, Lance continued his stories and general chatter about all the things he was excited to do that evening. Keith tried his best to listen, if only to distract himself from the blade practically burning a hole in his pocket. He didn’t realize that Lance knew exactly what he was trying to do, and was keeping him involved in their conversation in an effort to help.

They wove through the crowds, trying to keep their cloaks on so as not to be recognized and therefore slowed down. They’d be late if they didn’t hurry.

The town seemed to be one endless farmer’s market setup that blended together with houses and other facilities. Sunlight streamed through the tapestries hung overheard to block some of the heat. Merchers and their alien wares continually distracted Lance, and Keith constantly had to pull him away to keep them both from being late. At one particularly shady booth, however, Keith was unable to pull the other Paladin away.

“Lance, come on!” He insisted, trying to get other boy’s attention. “Allura’s going to kill us if we don’t have time to change into our uniforms.”

“Hold on.” Lance shushed him as he negotiated with the merchant about an object hidden from Keith’s view. His brown skin seemed to glow under the sun as he chattered away, and Keith was once again struck by how pretty the boy opposite him was. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

“We really have to go - “ Keith insisted, trying to interrupt the fast-paced bargaining in front of him. Lance finally turned to face him, grinning triumphantly and holding what looked to be a letter opener. “What the hell is that?” He asked flatly, annoyance finally creeping in. Did Lance make them both late for a blunt, boring object from Earth? Surely he wasn’t that desperate for home.

“It’s a new blade, for you. Well, an old blade. I’m pretty sure it’s from home and probably just like a dumbass letter opener or something, but you could always sharpen it, I know how much you love your pointy-stabby weapons. Anyway, it’s red and black, which is kind of your whole color scheme, and I thought maybe it would be helpful to have a blade that represented your human side when you start feeling really, I dunno, out of place. No matter who you are, you’re still Keith to us, and that means you’re my...our… family.” Lance rushed, a slight blush building at the base of his neck as he held out his gift, trying to play it cool. 

Keith stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “For...me?” He said quietly, reaching out to take it, gently, from Lance’s hand.

“Yeah, if you want it. No pressure, though.” He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway, we really should get going, Allura’s going to have our skins -”

The shorter boy leapt forward and wrapped Lance in an awkward, bone-crushing hug. Before the Blue Paladin even had a chance to realize what was happening, however, Keith had let go and was mumbling that he’d take the lead on their way to the meeting spot.

Lance grinned, the blush spreading up to his cheeks, and Keith made sure to memorize that look, that moment, and the spreading feeling of warmth that was starting to become familiar the more time he spent with the passionate, energetic boy standing in the pale yellow sunlight by his side.

\-------------------------------------------------

2 Months, 1 Weeks, 6 Days after Capture

Keith woke up, the memory he’d been dreaming about dissipating from his mind like smoke. 

He opened his eyes and found himself in a dark, chillingly cold cell. He groaned, reeling from the deep, aching pain in his ribs and the burning slash on his stomach. As he moved back towards the wall to try and sit up, he bit back cries of pain, gritting his teeth together to keep from yelling.

Lance was gone, and Keith was alone.

Keith leaned his head back against the metal wall and let the grief wash over him. He’d failed Lance, and now the Galra had turned him into one of their own. Who knew if it was possible to undo whatever they’d done, but Keith was sure that while Lance was deep under their control now, he wasn’t too far gone to save. He refused to believe that the same boy who’d thoughtfully bought him a spur-of-the-moment present was also a cold blooded killer beyond help.

Keith pulled back a hidden slot in his boot, and took out that same red and black knife that had been gifted to him so long ago by the warm, kind-hearted boy who pretended to be his rival. His Marmora blade was still on the castle ship, but it didn’t matter anymore. His past didn’t matter - only the fellow Paladin he was trapped here with, the only person who could make Keith’s heart ache with just a smile.

In fact, they weren’t even Paladins anymore. They were simply Keith and Lance. Red and Blue. Partners in this mess, not rivals. 

And Keith refused to fail Lance again. It would take some time, and it would be dangerous, but he’d get his partner in crime back.

No matter what it took.


	6. White & Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As their torture sessions ends, Lance deals with the outcome.

2 Months, 1 Weeks, 5 Days after Capture

 

Lance

Lance sweat profusely through his highly tailored Galra uniform as he stood back, watching as Keith, unconscious, was dragged carelessly out of the room like a child’s worn-down toy. His head flopped back, messy, long black hair covering his eyes, as he was taken through the hallway back to his cell. Lance felt his usual urge to break down and scream whenever Lotor made him do something terrible skyrocket, and he turned to Haggar, composing his slightly twisted scowl into something less sad and more angry.

“Are we done here?” He demanded, his voice bouncing off the walls.

“For now, yes. Once Keith has woken up, I think we can break him even further. You did an excellent job, soldier, of creating another large crack in his shell. We’ll get the information out of him eventually.” Haggar sneered maliciously. Lance swallowed the bile rising up in his throat and imitated her look of glee.

“I look forward to it.” With that, Lance turned on his heel and walked briskly out of the room, as if he had further, more important business to attend to. He tried to keep his breathing normal. Once in the empty hallway, he started moving in a jog, and flat out sprinted the last thirty feet to his quarters. As he unlocked the door and walked in, he tossed most of his outer layers onto the ground and began to stretch, using his adrenaline to feign excess energy and mask his growing panic attack. Even his room had cameras in it, and he couldn’t risk the questions of loyalty that would be asked if he was caught having a breakdown. Not after he’d come so far.

As Lance started to refocus his brain on the exercises, he slipped into some push ups. Around the twentieth set, he snorted. Using exercise to avoid dealing with his emotions? What, was he turning into Keith?

Suddenly, the mirage crashed down around him as Lance froze, fully realizing what he’d just done. Within seconds, he had stripped down and sprinted to the shower, slamming the bathroom door behind him. This was the only room that the Galra didn’t monitor. The only place he was safe. Hot water immediately began pouring out of the shower, and Lance let the room fill with steam before getting in. He refused to look at his reflection in the mirror; he had seen the numerous scars criss-crossing his body too many times before. Blue didn’t need another reminder right now of how broken he was or all the ugly things he’d done to survive. It wasn’t until he’d been standing numbly under the hot water for several minutes that he burst into heart wrenching sobs and silent screams. Lance clawed at his chest, trying to physically tear the pain away from him.

He had just  _ tortured _ Keith. His fellow ex-Paladin, who he’d thought was dead up until a few minutes ago.

Keith, the boy who’d worked so hard to protect him, the boy who had just about burst into tears after receiving that stupid knife, the boy that could work a mullet like no other (a fact Lance would take to his deathbed).

The boy whose friendship had meant the world to Lance.

They had been partners, hadn’t they? They were supposed to trust each other implicitly, and Lance had not only broken that bond, but shattered it and burned the remains.

He was filled with an agonizing joy to find out that Red was alive, but how could he even look Keith in the eyes again after what he’d just done? God, the look of betrayal and fear that Lance had put on his face had almost been enough to make him drop onto the floor and crawl over, begging for forgiveness. Instead, he did what he needed to do to survive and played the part of the newly trained Galra soldier. 

Was this all worth it, to stay alive? Voltron seemed far away, like a distant dream that hadn’t ever really existed. They really were on their own, and Lance had just decreased any chance of them working together to get out to a scary nonexistent possibility.

If this is what it took to survive, were either of them really living?  _ This is definitely not what Keith deserves _ , Lance thought frantically.  _ It should have been me instead under Haggar’s control instead. I’m not worth this. _

Lance crouched under the stream of hot water, head in his hands. Maybe they should just give up Voltron. After all, the Galra wouldn’t stop torturing Keith until they had the information they wanted - something Lance didn’t even know. Lotor had simply promised that there was a lead, and it was Lance’s job to follow up on it. He’d agreed unquestioningly, although confused, raging quietly and trying to hide his shock, torn about this clear trial of loyalty. 

He would always remember the way the whole world had slowed when Lotor explained who, exactly, Lance would be torturing.

Had Hagger and the other Galra been torturing Keith this entire time, trying to get information out of him that didn’t exist?

_ DAMN IT,  _ Lance roared internally, punching the wall.  _ Why didn’t I do more to try and find him?  _ _ This is all my fault. _

By now, he practically  _ was _ Galra. He’d trained himself to think like them, act like them, respond like them. When it was a life-or-death situation, Lance had discovered how quickly he could pull off a con. Lying was now second nature to him, and he was much more controlled than he had been when first captured. Galra training was intense, and Lotor did not fuck around. So Lance had shut down everything real about him, and buried it, along with all his emotions. Survival was the most important thing.

After everything else Lotor had put Lance through, this test of loyalty would have been irritating if it hadn’t been absolutely disgusting.

Lance had been so sure that Keith was dead. After being separated and hearing those screams, he’d only managed to catch a glimpse of what he thought was Red’s dead body, which has absolutely broken him. So Lance tried to pretend Keith had been killed swiftly, or at least with minimal pain. It was easier for Lance that way. The guilt would have otherwise torn through his lungs, the way it was now. At least, in his mind, Keith was in a better place - after all, anything’s better than being trapped and endlessly tortured by the Galra.

Fuck, Lance had given up and left Keith to Haggar’s devices. He shouldn’t have doubted Keith’s strength and ability to put up a fight. He also should have known better than to assume something based off of a glimpse, not to mention that he was a good enough spy to pick up on whatever Lotor didn’t tell him. 

Lance felt numb. How could he have just torn Keith apart from the seams like that? 

He pounded his fist on the floor of the shower, screaming silently. All the previously suppressed emotions came crashing down, and he became dizzy with the strength of them all. 

How Keith had been managing to stay alive all this time was beyond him, but if the idea of Lance somehow still being alive as well had been Red’s last hope…...well, then Lance had done many terrible things these past two and a half months, but this was by far the worst.

He’d killed Keith’s faith in him. The last thing both of them had.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Next Day (2 Months, 1 Weeks, 6 Days after Capture)

Long after the water had turned cold, Lance had stumbled out of the shower and gone straight to bed, completely ignoring the rest of his evening duties. Fuck Lotor. If that punk prince tried to call him out on it, Lance would flutter his eyelashes and make up some bullshit excuse. It’d worked for him so far.

Unfortunately, the next morning was not kind and came too soon, a soldier pounding on his door. Lance jumped up, the panic making him sweat in a well-trained Pavlovian response.

“What?” He barked out, trying to wake up fully. 

“Lotor requests your presence, sir.” Some low-level soldier responded hesitantly, probably trying to sound confident. 

_ Fuck. _

“What for?” Lance tried to buy himself some time as he hurried to put on his uniform, which was still sweaty and gross from yesterday. He wrinkled his nose and let out a low noise of displeasure at the feeling of sticky fabric. 

“Something about the….special prisoner.” 

_ Double fuck.  _ That had to be Keith. Was he alright? Had he completely fallen apart after Lance left and told them everything? 

Although, there was nothing to tell - which was part of the problem, Lance thought grimly. The Galra were absolutely convinced that Voltron had some big secret that the Paladins were aware of, and they were determined to get said information out of Keith (after all, Lance wasn’t supposed to have any memory of being a Paladin). That was the extent of what Lance had been told yesterday before being abruptly sent off to torture his friend.

The first emotion he’d felt in a long time was the horror that dawned on him upon being assigned that particular task. 

He’d felt absolutely monstrous doing that to Keith. Torturing him, manipulating him, playing him for the information that didn’t exist and that he didn’t know. 

“Are you still there, sir?” The soldier on the other side of Lance’s door coughed out awkwardly.

Damn it. Lance shoved the rest of his thoughts away for a different time and yanked on his jacket at the same time he swung the door open. He ran a hand through his hair subconsciously and stared down the officer in front of him.

“Well, lead the way.” He said, his usual snark now laced with an impatient, dangerous edge. 

The Galra jumped to it and lead the way down the hall, although Lance had the path memorized at this point, and he certainly didn’t need an escort. Everyone knew to stay away from Lotor’s pet. If the threat of the prince himself wasn’t enough, Blue was also known to break any hands or other body parts that got too close. 

Lance would do what he had to, but he drew the line there. Getting Lotor under his thumb was one thing, but letting the other Galra get near him was too much.

As they walked briskly towards Lotor’s private quarters, Lance twirled his knife in boredom. He missed his scoping rifle desperately, but they’d taken away his bayard during capture and hadn’t let him touch a gun since. It was only recently that they’d entrusted him with weapons used for close combat, since they figured he could only do limited damage if the worst were to happen.

Still, Lance had been the gunman of the team. He was good at it. Now he was good at most things, but it wasn’t as fun.

Not when Keith wasn’t there to call him sharpshooter, that hint of a smirk ghosting his mouth every time. Lance lived for Red’s smirk, even though he always made a big show of protesting Keith’s teasing.

Now he just felt empty every time he went into a training session or battle.

Upon his arrival at Lotor’s door, Lance didn’t hesitate before bursting in, donning his regular cocky and careless facade without missing a beat. There was a deeply messed up part of him that enjoyed this whole game; that liked playing and winning. 

He relished his own ability to survive.

“Hello, Lance.” Lotor practically purred from the other side of the room, perched on the wall of his personal sparring ring. 

“Lotor. You wanted to speak with me?” Lance pulled up a chair and sat against the wall, resting his legs on a nearby desk.

“Yes. It seems the Red Paladin has been quite distressed since your little visit. Whatever you did, it worked quite well.” Lotor paused, humming as he studied the boy in front of him. “How do you feel about that? It seems you disappeared rather quickly after the fact.”

Lance rolled his eyes, trying to disguise his slight panic. “It just pissed me off, trying to interrogate the son of a bitch that killed my family. I had a lot of rage to work off, so I went to my room to exercise it out, like you taught me too.” He added a half-shrug and a wink for good measure, his posture relaxed and natural. Unfortunately, he was all too familiar with these games Lotor played.

“Alright, well, I am  _ so _ glad to hear you made progress. I want you to go to his cell and continue your interrogation.” Lotor flipped his stark white hair arrogantly as he jumped from his perch, striding toward the ex-paladin.

Lance cocked an eyebrow. “Right now? Isn’t he a little unconscious at the moment?”  _ Please be okay, Keith. But you better not be awake right now, you dumb fuck. _

“He actually just woke up, and has apparently been screaming your name for the last twenty minutes straight. It’s rather annoying, and we can’t get him to shut up, try as we might.” The prince was clearly irritated with Keith’s lack of cooperation. He wasn’t used to having any creature immune to his power or sway.

Lance laughed a little at that. Leave it to Keith to find a way to the well-hidden temper button of the dangerously level headed Galra in charge.

Out of other options and desperate not to torture Keith again, he decided to try the complaining route. “But I’m tired. I did so much work today, can’t it wait till tomorrow?” He whined, having perfected such a voice after imitating his siblings back on Earth for years.

Lotor simply turned around, an amused look on his face as reached out to brush Lance’s face. Lance kept himself from recoiling as he worked to imitate the prince’s face.  _ Be cool, careless. Everything’s fine.  _ “Don’t be lazy”, Lotor chided. “Go back, and get your revenge on that sorry excuse for a paladin. I need that information.” He tapped Lance’s chin.

“You know, it would be helpful if I knew what this information pertained to.” The brown-haired boy said dryly, trying to buy himself more time.

“But that takes all the fun out of it”, Lotor said with a dark grin. “Now, go have fun.” He dismissed Lance, who sighed heavily and turned on his heel to exit the quarters. As the door shut behind him, Lance straightened his back and started down towards the cells, his posture giving a confident air that he certainly didn’t feel. There were monitors everywhere, and he could not risk a break in his armor. As he made his way down the metal steps, the panic rose in his chest. 

How was he going to do this? There was no way he could torture Keith again. Now that he was no longer under Haggar’s watchful eye, there had to be a way to communicate to Red that it was all a ruse. But how to do so….Lance chewed the inside of his mouth and adjusted his uniform self-consciously as he moved closer to the cells.

“LANCE MCCLAIN! THE BLUE PALADIN OF VOLTRON! LET ME SEE HIM, NOW!” A familiar voice screamed down the hall, cracking with exhaustion and rough with disuse from the past two months. Lance felt his heart crack and took a moment to steel himself for whatever happened next. He had to keep them both alive, even if it meant making Keith despise him. With Lance undercover as Lotor’s pet, he was the only one who had enough influence to persuade the Galra Prince that Red was important enough to keep around.

He took a deep breath before turning the corner. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight ahead.

Keith was being held down by two guards that had entered his cell, and one was currently putting a gag in the pale boy’s mouth to stop him from screaming. Blood was pooling out from a reopened wound on his stomach, and he had ugly bruises mottling his entire body. He looked horribly malnourished and weak, like he would give out any moment. Lance violently shivered at the sight of his broken friend. 

_ I did this.  _ He thought, horror and a deep anguish slipping through him.  _ I broke him. _

Keith and Lance locked eye contact, and for a moment the world around them slowed to a halt. Terrified blue eyes met livid dark purple ones, and for a minute it seemed as if Lance was the one being pinned down and Keith was coming to torture him. He certainly would be having nightmares about this for the rest of his life, however short that ended up being. 

_ I need to keep you alive. _ Lance swore.  _ I’ll do whatever it takes. That’s how I’ll make all of this up to you. _

_ I’m so sorry, Keith. _

The Paladin of Voltron was long gone, and Blue, favored pet of Lotor and brutally well-trained fighter, was here to see the dirty work done.

Lance shrugged off his outer coat, throwing it on the ground. 

“Release him.” He said in a bored voice, delicately picking at his nails. The guards, only briefly hesitating, gave up on trying to gag Keith and walked out of the cell as Lance waved a dismissal at them. They nodded, and disappeared quickly down the hall. Keith lay on the floor, breath rattling through his lungs as he glared lividely at Lance.

Blue ignored it, and walked into the cell anyway. Keith didn’t move an inch, instead choosing to stare the other boy down.

“Are you ready to give up the information?” Lance began to pace nonchalantly, trying to rack his brain for a way to communicate with Keith. It was practically impossible - besides the fact that they were being monitored, there was so much to say.

“What did they do to you?” Keith whispered. His dark hair had grown longer, and now covered his sunken, flashing eyes. He sounded furious. 

“They helped me remember.” Lance shrugged, running a hand through his neatly trimmed sandy brown hair subconsciously. “They told me everything - how you helped destroy my family and my entire planet. You and this Voltron are trying to take over the galaxy, and the Galra are the only thing standing in your way.”

“That’s insane.” Keith’s voice was flat. “Lance, have you been outside of this ship? Everyone’s terrified of the Galra, because  _ they’re _ the ones trying to conquer the galaxy. You’ve got it all backwards - and  _ you’re _ a Paladin of Voltron.”

“Of course I haven’t been outside. I’ve been needed to serve the Prince. I’m his right hand man. His bodyguard.” Even though he’d been living this lie for over two months now, the words still tasted bloody on Lance’s tongue. He hated what had to come next, too - “And don’t you dare spew such lies against the Galra again. I serve them, and have been trained to protect their legacy.” The taller boy growled, suddenly jumping to action with a dagger at Keith’s throat. He hadn’t realized how automatic his defensive response had become.  _ So much for trying to regain Red’s trust,  _ Lance thought angrily.  _ Why can’t I do anything right? _

“Lance, try to remember me. I know that they’ve been messing with your head, or something, but you’re stronger than this. I know you are.” Keith persisted in a choked voice. He clearly wanted Lance to hear him, but was also terrified of being hurt again.

“I know I’m strong. I’m strong enough to stay alive. To do whatever it takes.” Lance tried to keep the emotion out of his voice. He needed control over this situation, or he wouldn’t succeed in either mission. His heart kept breaking, however, at the sight before him. 

Still, he continued to circle Keith with knives pointed closely at him.

For a moment, this silence was absolutely deafening. The two boys kept eye contact, and Lance rapidly racked his brain for a way to move forward.

But to his absolute shock, Keith suddenly began to cry. He wiped at his eyes furiously, sniffling the entire time. “It should’ve been me.” His voice cracked, and he lowered his head, absolutely broken. “I was already messed up, but you...you deserved better, Lance. I’m so sorry. I should’ve done more, I...I don’t know what Lotor did to you, but it should have been me.”

Lance’s horror grew with every gasping word out of the other boy’s mouth. This was the first time he’d ever seen Keith  _ cry. _

The facade cracked for a moment, as Blue gaped at the words that lay in the air between them now. “What?” He stuttered, still trying to keep a grip on his daggers. His hands were growing sweaty as his anxiety shot through the roof. What had they done to Keith to break him like this? Surely one battle with him couldn’t have done this much damage.

Keith rubbed his face aggressively and tried to hide his tears as he spoke angrily. “Lance, I know you don’t trust me and you clearly don’t remember me, but just listen to me for five minutes. You gotta remember the rest of the team, they were at least super important to you - There’s Hunk, he’s been your best friend forever, and Pidge, who’s basically your younger sister. And, um, you all went to the Garrison together? I don’t know much more than that but you always talk about this one time where you played this really bad prank on Iverson -”

“STOP.” Lance’s voice came out much harsher than he’d intended, but he felt frozen in place by the words that had just been spoken.

Did Keith not think he was important to Lance?

_ Of course not, you dumb asshole. The entire time you were Paladins together you kept pushing that stupid rivalry on him. And now he thinks you’re out to murder him because you’ve been brainwashed by the Galra. Anyone would think you didn’t care about Keith. _

Lance squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stay calm. Every bone in his body was screaming to break and tell Keith everything, but then all of their work would have been for nothing. All of the pain he’d let Red go through would have been for nothing.

Keith had clearly seen that he’d hit a nerve though. “You, Pidge, and Hunk were on the same team at the Garrison. You were the pilot, Hunk was the engineer, and Pidge was the technician. You always talk about how much fun you had there, and how talented you were, but one time I overheard you talking to Allura about how lonely and insecure you feel, which is ridiculous because you practically keep Voltron together - “

“STOP!” Lance roared, his panic kicking his training into high gear as he swung his daggers in a sharp arc near Keith’s throat. To Red’s credit, he only barely flinched as he looked up with exhausted yet blazing purple eyes. Lance’s heart was in his throat as his body shook, the metal vibrating ever so quietly.

He couldn’t. He didn’t want to. Remembering Voltron was forbidden. He should. He shouldn’t. His head spun aggressively, Galra propaganda mixing with his past self.

_ You need to survive. You need to keep Keith alive. You need to get it together. _

If Keith kept pushing him like this, though, they wouldn’t live through the day. If Red didn’t shut up, Lance would be forced to play heavily into his role as a brainwashed soldier, something that would destroy them both even further.

“Lance...” Keith whispered, and for a moment Blue got lost in the comfort of that familiar voice. If he just closed his eyes, he could pretend like they were back on the Castleship. That everything was fine. That they were safe.

“You’re the Blue Paladin of Voltron. We need you to come back to us. I need you to come back.” Keith’s voice was steel, forged by the fire of Haggar’s - and Lance’s - torture.

“Red. Shut. Up.” Keith’s voice may have been steel, but Lance’s was ice. A warning. He leaned in close, and tried to plead with the hot-headed dropout with his wide, panicked, eyes. “Stop. Talking.” His brow furrowed, and he could feel his genuine fear coming through as it reflected in Keith’s face. For a moment, Lance thought he’d understood, but the expression was gone too quickly as Red opened his mouth in confusion.

Lance shook his head in frustration, and knocked the other boy out with a swift blow, a surprised, quiet gasp filling in the silence briefly. 

As Keith crumpled to the ground with a soft thump, Lance turned around and walked out without looking back, eyes welling up with angry tears. Keith still didn’t know, and Lance didn’t know how to tell him. Without a team-up, however, there was no chance of escape. 

Not that Red would ever trust Blue again.

Lance’s heart ached, agitation lacing his entire body as he walked rigidly back to his room.

Somehow, his Galra uniform felt a lot more ill-fitting now than it had earlier.


	7. Grey & Giveaways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance returns to try and get information out of Keith. It does not go as planned.

3 Months, 0 Weeks, 1 Day after Capture

 

Keith

 

It had been two weeks since he’d seen Lance, Keith thought dully as he lay on the table. He’d probably pushed him too far, and now he was never going to come back. His one chance, and he’d blown it.

A quiet voice trickled through the back of his mind. Maybe it was time to listen to it and just end it all. Voltron wasn’t going to come save him, and Lance…..

Keith wasn’t going to be able to save him. 

He should’ve known from the start that the casual bond of friendship the two of them had begun to develop wouldn’t be enough to break through Galra brainwashing shit. Nevertheless, he’d tried to get through to the kind and empathetic Blue Paladin, only to lose him even more than before. There had been a moment, though - Lance had told him to stop talking as he looked him right in the eyes, panic making his hands shake. Was it a clue? A signal? Was there a crack in the armor?

Keith brushed it off. Lance had disappeared after that. He’d probably just been irritated by Red’s incessant babbling.

Keith growled, and slammed the back of his head against the table. Haggar hadn’t even started her work yet, and his mind was already spinning. He let the turmoil wash over him, eventually replaced by a protective numbness he’d developed well during the past few months. His eyes wandered across the room blankly. Everything was starting to look grey and colorless. The table. The walls. The floor. The -

The door opened suddenly, and the dark-haired boy closed his eyes, pretending to be back on the castle, stargazing from his hiding spot on the bridge. Maybe, if he focused enough, Lance could be there too…..

“Are you seriously asleep?” A familiar amused voice, laced with agitation, reverberated throughout the room.

Keith’s eyes shot open and he tried to sit up instinctively, but fell back against the bonds pinning him down. “Lance?” His throat was raw from screaming over the past week. The witch had been particularly brutal for some unknown reason.

Lance stood in the doorway, hand on his hip as he casually surveyed the fellow ex-paladin in front of him. Keith felt his heart jump into his throat, hope growing where it should have been long dead.

“I’m here to negotiate with you.” 

The hope wilted again, and Red was furious at himself for letting it blossom in the first place.

“Oh.” Keith responded flatly, and laid his head back down on the table.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me?” Lance sauntered over, his tone surprisingly bland as well. The mullet-haired ex-paladin felt suspicion creeping in.

“Why? Nothing’s changed. You’re going to threaten me and beat me up, and I’ll continue to  avoid revealing whatever big secret you think I have about Voltron. Why waste my breath anymore?” The words were spit with bitter exhaustion. It was strange, but Keith could have sworn he saw Lance fade just a little bit at that - but then he blinked, and it was gone.

“Well….That’s boring.” Blue picked up a thin bottle of an unknown liquid and twirled it casually between his fingers. “Let’s try something else today, hmm?”

“Like what, Lance?” Keith was tired and in pain. His heart ached, heavy with the view of this Galra replacement possessing Lance’s body and poisoning his personality. It was sickening to watch.

But then the Cuban boy did the unexpected, and leaned in closer to Keith. He could practically count the freckles dotted across Blue’s nose.

“If you side with me, I can give you everything you want.” He whispered it so gently that Keith almost believed him. He shut his eyes and tried to remember that it was all fake, it was all to get him to break - 

“What do you want, Keith?” Lance continued, practically purring as he dragged a hand down Red’s arm. He shivered and paled uncomfortably at what the other boy was implying. There was no way - he’d kept that locked away from Haggar, how did they know - 

“Stop, Lance.” Keith whispered, a broken choking noise that sounded ugly even to him. This was too much. He’d been so careful, too. For them to manipulate Lance like this...Maybe he finally would break. He couldn’t let Lance do this to himself.

Lance smirked, eyes flat and deadly - Keith hadn’t realized until then how much he missed the spark of joy that used to light them up - as he leaned in closer until he was right by Red’s ear -

“Keith, I promise I’m here. I’m so sorry for everything. I’m going to get us out somehow, I swear.” 

Keith just about blacked out at the sound of Lance’s familiar, reassuring warm tone that filled his ear. Fuck, he thought he’d never hear that again. “What?” He managed to choke out. What the hell was going on? He felt light headed, even as he stayed lying down.

Lance shushed him, and the deadly smirk was back. Keith glanced around, beyond confused. If this was a game the Galra were playing, then he was well and truly fucked. Haggar was taking mind games to a whole new level.

“Lance…” Keith hesitated, speaking ever so softly. If there was a chance he’d been telling the truth, then maybe there was still hope. The rage in Lance’s eyes these past two times, though. There was no chance he’d escaped Lotor’s grasp completely unscathed, and it showed. 

“What? Like what you see?” Lance had moved to the other side of him, and now leaned back, eyes flashing darkly. What the hell was he playing at? Keith was already bad at reading people, but this was downright impossible. Also, how did Blue know that flirting with him would make him so vulnerable?

Red felt a flash of anger at being so emotionally exposed like this.

“Leave me alone!” He growled, finally finding his spark to fight back again. This needed to end. Whatever was going on, he’d had enough of being Haggar’s plaything. Time to end this or escape.

But Lance didn’t even flinch, instead choosing to place both his hands opposite Keith’s head and lean in close, whispering in his ear again.

“Just play along. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” 

There it was again, the gentle, caring voice of the same boy who so thoughtfully bought him that stupid knife, all those months ago.

All Keith ever did in his life was take leaps of faith, instinct, trust. Why couldn’t he extend one more jump to the boy who had saved his life before? He took a deep breath.

“Yes,” He whispered, making sure to keep eye contact with the stormy blue pair above his own. The spark he’d mistook for rage had turned into genuine (although well hidden) concern.

“I trust you.” Keith murmured.

He watched as Lance screwed his eyes shut, seemingly in pain from the weight of those spoken words now dancing in the air. “I don’t deserve it, but I’ll prove myself to you again. I will earn your trust back.” He steadied himself with a shaky breath and moved away again, sauntering like a cat. The quick change gave Red whiplash, and he wanted to call out that Lance already had his trust, he’d just said that, but Keith stopped himself as he wondered how deep that trust really extended past this moment of survival. 

Of necessity.

“I think if you join us you’ll be much happier.” Lance twirled his dagger between his fingers smoothly, as if he were playing a well-rehearsed card trick. 

“I….I don’t know what you want from me.” Should he cry? Keith felt weird. He’d never been good at lying. Maybe he should just use his confusion to his advantage and roll with it. Lance asked him to play along, but what did that mean, exactly?

“What I want is for you to trust me - us - and just have a little conversation. Tell us what you know, and then we’ll teach you all the ways of the powerful Galra. See, “Voltron” always said that they were the greatest defender of the galaxy, but I just don’t see that being true. After all, we have you and they don’t.” Lance spoke in a level-headed drawl, as smooth as the way he tossed his dagger around. When had he become so calculating, cold, and focused?

“I don’t care what you have to say. Just stop torturing me. I’ll do whatever you want.” Keith let his real exhaustion bleed through the words.

Lance turned on his heel immediately and returned to his startlingly close position as he possessively pet Keith’s hair. Red had to stop himself from violently cringing at the contact.

Blue leaned in, speaking ever softly and quickly. “If I cut your bonds, could you stand and fight?”

Honestly, Keith wasn’t sure. It’d been so long since he’d been allowed to walk, let alone exercise. He paused. “I...I don’t know.”

Lance continued moving, but his gentle, somewhat urgent voice was always nearby as he danced around the table, spinning his knife like a hypnotist’s distraction. “Alright. What if I carry you? Could you shoot a gun? Could you fight back?”

Keith opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly his instinct began screaming that something was wrong. Was Lance actually lying? Was Blue also being played? 

He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but something was very, very, wrong.

“I...I should be able to, yes.” He steeled himself to move, already gritting his teeth against the imminent pain.

“Okay, I’ll steal a gun from the guard on the way out. Meanwhile, we’re going to have to try and -”

“Planning something, Lance?” Haggar’s voice was burning sharp, the crackle of flames on the pyre they’d built for themselves.

_ FUCK.  _

If Keith wasn’t so used to disappointment by now, he’d start slamming his head on the table again. They’d been so fucking close - 

“Haggar - “ Lance tried to backtrack, but the panic was clear in his voice.

“I’ve heard enough. Clearly my work on you was not as effective as it should have been.” 

“No! I was just trying to.. to manipulate and-and...mess with the Red Paladin even further -”

“SAVE IT!” She snarled, lunging for Lance, who stumbled backwards in fear. “I’ve had enough of you and this useless one. Since neither of our original plans seemed to have worked out, I supposed we’ll just have to be creative.” She hissed, pleasure growing in her voice. “Throw them into the Arena cells.”

“What? No! No, I swear it’s not what it looks like, I was trying to serve Lotor! I serve you, the Prince, and the Galra Empire!” Lance babbled, terror growing as the guards grabbed him. He almost managed to fight them off, but was ultimately overpowered.

Keith was roughly hoisted off the table by a guard, and immediately fell to the ground, legs weak. The guards began to awkwardly half-drag, half-carry him down the hall behind Lance, and as Blue screamed, Keith fell silent, completely numb to his fate.

All too soon the two of them were once again about to be separated, and Keith looked up to see Lance crying silently.

“I’m so sorry Keith. I swear, I’ll find a way to save you. Just please, stay alive! KEITH-” 

As Red was dragged through a side door, he felt the urge to reach out and grab Lance’s extended hand. Too soon, however, he was forced to turn a corner, and the reassuring flash of blue eyes were once again gone from his view, replaced by the blank hopelessness of the grey walls slowly closing in around him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, ya'll! Thanks for being so incredibly patient and wonderful as I took a bit of an unexpected break, I really appreciate every single one of your comments and likes. I should be back on track for a more regular posting schedule - after the mess of s7, I decided I really needed to get back to this, cause we all deserve better work. I know it's dark right now, but there will be a happy ending for our brave, beloved gay Paladins! I hope ya'll like this story and as we get into the happier stuff, it improves your day just a little. Thanks for reading, and, as always, come yell at me on Tumblr at thequeerboysart!


	8. Green & Grit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance decides on his next steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hardest part of writing this has been coming up with chapter titles (and, like, character development/pacing/other story shit, but whatever, who needs that).

3 Months, 2 Weeks after Capture

 

Lance

 

He’d forgotten how  _ freezing cold  _ these cells were. Worse, there was no way to hide from it. Lance tried to curl into himself even more as he sat in the corner, teeth chattering, but the metal walls touching his back just bled the warmth out of his skin. His head spun as he tried to stay awake.

_ Is this hypothermia or exhaustion? _ Stars flashed across his eyes for a moment as he numbly fell to the ground, head pounding. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Why was he so cold?

Lance tried to sit up, but found he couldn’t feel or move his arms anymore. He felt like he’d been drugged. Maybe it was the lack of food over the past few days. Maybe he’d finally snapped mentally. Either way, Blue wasn’t sure exactly how long he was laying there, waiting for sleep to overtake him, when two guards burst in loudly and picked him up, dragging him harshly out of his cell.

He could only hear ringing in his ears. Noises were muffled and his vision was spotty. He was pretty sure if the Galra dropped him to the ground right now, he would simply turn to dust and fade away completely. Lance didn’t feel real anymore. 

He didn’t even feel, period. 

Lance had been like this for the past week. Since being discovered by Haggar and dragged away from Keith, the Galra had dumped him unceremoniously in a random cell and left him there alone. At first he’d been agitated, pacing around constantly. He knew exactly what the Arena was - between conversations with Shiro and his months as Lotor’s pet, he’d been forced to face firsthand the horrors these aliens so loved to participate in. Were humans also so disgustingly animalistic? 

That was a stupid question. Of course they were. Lance had just always underestimated that a love for violence could spread farther than Earth’s messy past. Perhaps the entire galaxy was doomed to destroy itself.

Before he could even get a grip back on reality, he felt himself falling and dropping abruptly onto the ground. Lance moaned and tried to roll over, but he quickly found himself trapped in a small cage. He blinked heavily, trying to orient himself. What was going on? The only thing he could make sense of was a loud roaring. It sounded like the ocean back home; heavy, violent, and powerful. Was it his ears ringing? Was it an alarm?

Blue fought with his entire body to bring his senses into focus. As he strained to pick himself up, he hit his head on the wall, and suddenly the sound cleared into sharp specificity. It wasn’t the ocean. It was a  _ crowd _ . 

Lance’s stomach sunk as he realized exactly where he was: The Arena.

A thousand thoughts scattered across his mind, panic rising faster than he knew how to swallow it down.  _ It’s just like practice. If I could handle all those gladiators in training, I can handle this  _ quickly devolved into  _ holy shit, how the hell did Shiro do this for a year?!  _ Which soon jumped to  _ Fuck. I have to kill someone. _

Even as Lotor’s lapdog, Lance had managed to avoid killing so far. He couldn’t stand the thought of harming innocents, so he’d passed it off as that strange, perhaps uniquely human belief that to constraint proves power, or at least implies it. At that point, most of the Galra were convinced anyway that he had the potential to be one of them fully, someday. The danger then had been quite real, but ultimately indirect - all he’d had to do was keep up the lie. In a real battle to the death, hand-to-hand combat - could he do it then? Take another’s life, especially an innocent creature, captured like the Holts and Shiro once were? It was a new level of cruelty and inhumanity for Lance to fall to. 

The question was, would he?

Lance grimaced. He had a growing, sinking, horrible weight in his stomach with the knowledge that in all reality he  could, but  would was another question entirely.

Blue began to chew on the inside of his lip, pacing in the tiny cage as the crowd roared. Oddly enough, Lotor had never previously forced Lance to participate, or even suggest he watch, the way the half-Galra prince usually introduced and made him partake in so many disturbing Galra activities. Had he been keeping it close to the chest, a secret weapon to use against Lance in case of a betrayal such as this? 

He had to admit, it was a strong political move. Forcing a known Paladin and Defender of the Universe to either slaughter an innocent or show weakness in the Galras’ eyes and be killed himself was a win no matter what for Lotor.

Was Lance still considered a Paladin, though? Over 3 months and absolutely nothing from Voltron. They had to still be searching for at least Keith, however. He was their best fighter and pilot, save for maybe Shiro. 

Lance winced at the thought. He desperately hoped they’d rescue Keith, but the minute Red told them what he’d done, he would for sure be off the team, not to mention most likely left here to rot. The guilt of leaving Keith to be tortured for so long was still burning in his gut. Of course they’d leave him here. They should. 

Assuming that, what exactly was the purpose in staying alive? Lance thought dully. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to let the other creature win.

“All that for nothing,” he whispered bitterly. If he’d known this is how it would end, he’d take it all back in a heartbeat. Un-torture Keith, or even better, sacrifice himself so they wouldn’t get captured in the first place. What if, what if, what if -

The door slammed open. Bright, sharp sunlight blinded Lance, bringing back the fear so strongly he could feel every nerve in his body. He felt as though he was being brutally startled awake, the pains in his body heightening before fading in the background. The adrenaline tasted bitter in the back of his mouth.

The Arena was open. And the crowd was bloodthirsty.

\--------------------------------------

5 Months Before Capture

 

Lance tapped out an old pop song stuck in his head on the kitchen table, drumming his fingers with ease and practice. The only other noise in the room was the gentle hum of a new machine Hunk was working on that could make imitations of certain spices. All the Paladins were extremely excited about the possibility of new, better-tasting foods, so no one dared touch it in case it broke. 

As he finished the rhythm of the first chorus, Lance began to swing his legs back and forth. He was trying to keep himself awake as he sat on the cold countertop. It was getting to that strange point of the night where it was past very late and not quite really early, but Lance was determined to stick it out.

He eyed the nicely laid-out dish of green goo he’d put together after the Paladins’ dinner, sneakily covering it to hide for later. When Shiro caught him and asked, Lance went on a dramatic tirade about how he’d been getting hungry late at night (obviously because of how much he was working out; he’d clearly started building up muscle mass - couldn’t you see? Check out these guns!) and everyone had been so desperate to shut him up that Shiro let it go quickly. 

At this point, he was actually getting hungry, Lance thought. The irony. He rolled his eyes, and continued to tap out another song on the other hand. Just as he began to get into this new, brilliant mashup he’d created, Keith stormed in, blade at the ready.

“Alright, if there’s a non-Paladin creature on board, I swear -” Keith stopped short, startled by the Blue Paladin sitting on the counter in his pajamas, who was equally surprised as he held his hands up in self-defense. 

“Whoa, dude, is that how you always react to random noises at night? Did your parents never offer to get the monsters under your bed for you and just give you a knife instead, cause while that would make a lot of sense, it doesn’t sound like great parenting -” Lance began to chatter, amusement lighting up his face.

“What’re you even doing up this late?” Keith snapped, now grouchy about being made fun of. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” Lance said casually, resuming his leg-swinging movements.

“I was training. Did you feel the urge to be annoying and naturally wake up to bother me?” Keith said, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. 

“Nah, my stomach was growling and that woke me up. But then by the time I actually got to the kitchen, I wasn’t hungry anymore. You want it?” Lance pushed the plate towards the center of the counter, an offered peace treaty. It sounded so casual, so natural. He was proud of himself.

Keith sighed heavily, rolled his eyes, and walked over to begin eating it. “You should probably stop saving extra food if you’re never going to eat it. This is like the third time this week.” 

Lance gave a wordless hum of acknowledgment, but nothing more. The silence reverberated between the two of them. Lance began to tap out his beat again, and Keith shoved him with his elbow.

“Rude!” Lance said indignantly. “I just gave you my plate!”

“Well, I wouldn’t have come down here if you hadn’t been hitting the counter so hard! Your tapping is super obnoxious and practically echoes down the hall. If you hadn’t been so loud, I would’ve just gone to bed.” Keith grumbled, shoving his face full of food.

Lance snorted. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. Also, I know you’re secretly glad of my effervescent presence. You’re welcome for the food.” He smirked, fully aware of his condescending tone that earned him a glare from the Red Paladin.

“That’s not what effervescent means.” 

“Well, what does it mean?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not whatever you meant it to mean.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“You don’t make sense!”

“PALADINS.” Allura stood in the doorway, fuming in her elegant nightgown. “What exactly do you think you’re doing yelling in the middle of the night?” 

Lance recovered quickly from his surprise, and gracefully leapt down from the counter. Keith let out a vague noise of irritation, probably about being interrupted from his gross food-fest, Lance thought. 

“Sorry, Allura. Keith just got done training and I couldn’t sleep, so we ran into each other. Anyway, I’ll just head back to my rooms now. Sorry again for waking you up.” And with that, Lance quickly made his exit. As he walked down the hall, he heard Allura’s response as it floated down behind him.  _ I guess Keith was right about how sound travels here,  _ Lance mused.

“Well. That was odd. Not exactly the response I was expecting from Lance. Is everything alright?” The princess’ perfect accent rolled off her tongue, tinted with anxiety.

“I dunno. He was just in here, being annoying, and then he offered me food.” Despite his nonchalant words, Keith also sounded confused. 

“I suppose it’s good you’re eating. I’ve been concerned, not having seen you at dinner most evenings.” Allura reprimanded him.

“I know, I just forget. With training, and all…” 

Lance turned the corner and went into his room, smiling to himself about a job well done. He was always tired when everyone else went to bed, but it was worth it to make sure Keith was eating. After all, Voltron couldn’t have their best Paladin crashing during a mission. If Keith wouldn’t take care of himself, Lance was determined to make sure someone was watching his back. Lance stumbled towards his bed, immediately fell face-first and began snoring within seconds.

In the kitchen, Allura continued to speak. “Well, I’m glad that Lance keeps saving dinner. If he’s not going to eat it, at least you can. I’d hate for the food goo to go to waste.”

Keith paused, the gears slowly turning in his head. “Wait, has Lance been doing that every night?”

“Yes, he’s very insistent about needing food at these late hours. I don’t know why, he rarely complains of any issues sleeping. Perhaps it’s a case of that strange ‘sleepwalking’ you speak of on Earth…”

As Allura rambled on in her energetic way, Keith stopped chewing. He’d been caught off guard with Lance’s sudden exit as well, especially since he usually took any and every opportunity to flirt with the princess, which is what Keith had been expecting from him. But now, as Allura added pieces to the puzzle, the Red Paladin started to realize that Blue hadn’t had issues sleeping or been hungry. He also knew exactly what he was doing, tapping away obnoxiously, as if knowing it would summon Keith. 

In spite of himself, Keith felt the corners of his mouth turn into a small smile as a blush worked its way up his neck. 

Lance was trying to watch his back.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

3 Months, 2 Weeks after Capture 

 

As Lance walked out of cell, surrounded by enormously high walls where the Galra sat, he realized he had a reason to stay alive: if Keith was unable to watch his own back, someone had to.

Lance knew he was easily replaceable, but Keith? Voltron wasn’t going to be able to find another pilot like him. And with a missing Paladin, they were extremely weak.

In other words, the fate of the universe rested in Lance’s hands. He had to protect Keith.

As he scanned the crowds before him, the purple waves roaring with a thirst for blood, he tried to think of a plan. He had no weapon, no strategy, and no idea who was on the other side - large spikes spiraled throughout the center, blocking his view of the other cell’s entrance.

The only way was forward, Lance thought, grimacing about the inevitably brutal fight ahead of him. He jogged towards the middle, eyes scanning for any possible tool he could use to defend himself. Finally, he caught sight of a shortsword by the wall to his right. Moving faster now, Lance sprinted to grab it before his opponent made an appearance. Reaching the wall, he saw with disappointment that the blade was relatively dull.  _ I’ll take it over nothing _ , he thought, remembering the gross fist-fights he’d gotten into during his time as Lotor’s sidekick. It had been a long time before those started working out in his favor. 

He leaned down to grab the sword, testing the weight and balance in his hands as he straightened up. Now at eye-level with the first row of Galra, Lance stood face to face with a soldier smaller than the rest, in uniform, but standing out in their almost deadly silence. Unlike the rest of the crowd, this one was quietly observing, her eyes never leaving Lance’s face. Instinctively, he took a step back, and saw a blade hidden under her jacket, an exact replica of Keith’s favorite knife. 

Puzzled, he was just about to open his mouth and ask - Are you part of the Blade? Do you know Voltron? Can you tell them where we are? - 

But instead, Lance was unexpectedly whacked across the back of his head, and fell to the ground like a brick. 

The fight had begun.

When Lance was later standing over the other creature’s body, splattered in foreign bright blue blood -  _ fitting,  _ he thought grimly - he looked back where the quiet Galra had been standing, but she was gone.

In her place, guilt and a deep sadness began to seep through the edges of Lance’s vision. Most of the fight had been self-defense on his part, but that was no excuse. He’d killed another being.

He had to keep Keith alive.

“Who’s next?” Lance choked out, before collapsing into the dirt, his own red blood mixing with the blue as the audience screamed and cheered and demanded  _ more _ .


	9. Brown and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith remembers a moment with Lance before returning to the ring.

1 Month Before Capture

Keith 

 

Keith would swear on his life that he wasn’t listening. The wall was just comfortable to lean against, or his door wouldn’t unlock and he had to sit right outside, next to Lance’s room. Shiro always resisted the urge to point out that these things only conveniently occurred when the Blue Paladin was singing. He kept it to himself because he was a good older brother, but whenever Keith was testing him, it was right on the tip of his tongue, and during one particular fight it slipped out. He apologized immediately, but the damage had been done. Keith refused to even look at anyone for the next week, going so far as to sleep in his lion so he couldn’t be accused of listening in.

Keith had spent a year alone in the desert, but that week was the loneliest of his recent life.

He found Lance’s singing comforting, sue him. In space, there was no music from home or keepsakes to ground him. It was all alien, including himself. Keith was good at taking a punch, rolling with whatever happened, and staying on his feet, but being comforted was a recent discovery for him. He soon realized the appeal and listening to Lance singing eventually became routine, familiar. A part of home that Keith never knew he’d missed out on until it was gifted to him in the form of a beautiful Cuban boy who never stopped smiling or talking (or being annoying, Keith would say gruffly, crossing his arms and hiding a blush).

Lance had managed to find an old acoustic guitar during one of their earlier missions, and haggled for a long time to get it. In the end, he’d given up, but Keith had snuck back moments later,  drawn his weapons at the creature, and made them offer it to the Blue Paladin for free. When Keith coerced Lance into giving it another shot, the lanky, taller boy had been extremely confused.

\-------------------------

“Dude, I tried for like, hours. The shopkeeper isn’t going to budge.” Lance furrowed his brow, clearly frustrated.

“Just try again. You walked away with the power or whatever, it’s not like he’s going to find another human to sell it to.” Keith said argumentatively. He was always good at that with Lance. He still had things to learn about being persuasive, though. Something about subtlety eluded him.

“It’s fine, I don’t even care that much. It’s not worth it. Besides, the weather is getting crazy out here and Allura was saying we should get back before the tornado-quake or whatever -” The Blue Paladin rambled, his focus lost in the distance, shoulders sagging.

“Argh, you choose _now_ to give up? You’re saying you wasted all that time for nothing? Come on, you’re more stubborn than that, go convince them to sell it to you!”

“Why do you care? We’re not even friends!” Lance snapped, worn out and tired. Regret slowly made its way across his face as his brain caught up with his mouth.

Keith took a step back, hurt. “I know. I just...I know you have this stupid rivalry with me or whatever, but - Never mind. If you decide you want it, go back and talk to the shopkeeper. You’re good at...people.” He muttered, and walked away, hands balled into fists.

Whatever. He knew Lance hated him and they weren’t friends and couldn’t be friends and Keith’s stupid little crush would just get shoved down along with all his other feelings. And then one day, he’d die.

 _Death would be better than this dumb liking boys shit,_ Keith thought to himself angrily, stomping back to Red. Screw Lance. Screw feelings. Screw trying to be nice. Shiro always lectured him about how good it would be to open up, but of course the one time Keith tries, it all goes to hell.

Keith was going on a very long internal rant about how being emo and alone for the rest of his life was a perfectly acceptable lifestyle when he ran smack into Pidge, who yelped loudly as they swore like a sailor.

“You know, if you weren’t so busy brooding all the time, you’d probably be able to watch where you were going!” They exclaimed, checking to make sure their glasses weren’t broken.

Keith just about imploded. “I know, okay? I’m sorry for being such an asshole all the time!” He yelled, scrambling up to try and continue his march towards Red, the only creature who didn’t judge him in the cold vastness of space. Stupid Lance.

“Wait, hold up.” Pidge swiftly stepped in front of him, extremely intimidating for being half his height. “First of all, that wasn’t an actual apology. In fact, even for you, that was a really terrible, strange apology. Are you okay?” They demanded, staring unblinkingly into Keith’s soul.

He moved into himself subconsciously, feeling vulnerable. “No”, he said sullenly, although it clearly rang false even to his own ears.

“Okay...look, I don’t know what’s going on, but Allura’s saying we need to move out. The storm is about to be a lot worse than she expected. Where’s Lance?”

Keith hesitated, anger still pulsing hotly under his skin. “I don’t know.”

Pidge rolled their eyes, clearly done with his shit. “Did you kill him?”

“Maybe.” Keith muttered darkly, drawing his arms even tighter across his chest.

“Okay, whatever, you emo dumbass - can you find him and drag him back to the castle? I’ve got to help the locals set up new tech to contact us, and Hunk ditched me a while back in favor of stealing some spices or new vegetables, I don’t know. Just find Lance and get back, stat.”

“Wait, Pidge -” Before Keith could even begin protesting, Pidge had scattered away, zooming like the gremlin they were.

The invisible storm cloud over the Red Paladin’s head rumbled thunderously. In the distance, the planet matched the ominous sound, making Keith jump.

He stomped back to the market, tension making his nerves feel like they could spark into flame at any moment. He just felt humiliated by the whole thing. Maybe, if he was lucky, Lance would drop it and move on.

As the wind began to pick up, Keith tried to keep his head down to see better. He’d forgotten his helmet in his lion during the rush to leave the Castle and finally get a break on land. But as he looked up now to double-check his surroundings, he realized he’d gotten completely lost. Shacks were mixed in with the rolling hills that turned at every corner, and Keith had absolutely no idea where he was.

To emphasize his plight, the storm boomed suddenly, much closer than it had been just a few minutes ago.

 _Shit,_ Keith started swearing to himself and began to jog in a somewhat familiar direction (who was he kidding, at this point it was pure guesswork) while aggressively tapping his back-up comms in the Paladin armour.

“Hello? Is anyone there? Shiro? Pidge? Allura? I’m completely turned around and I have no idea where Lance is. Can you get a reading on me?” Keith tried to keep the panic from his voice, but there was a revealing uptick at the end of the last sentence.

“I sure can, mullet-brain.” Lance sauntered out down the street with a wide, genuine smile, and a matching genuine Earth guitar strapped to his back. He slung his arm around Keith and turned them around in the right direction.

Keith flushed, half-tempted to swipe Lance’s arm off. But it didn’t feel threatening, the way it had when boys would hassle him at the Garrison. It felt protective. He blushed even harder, and desperately wished he had his helmet to cover it up.

Lance, however, didn’t seem to notice as he began to ramble. “I don’t know WHAT you did or said to that shopkeeper - I really hope you didn’t threaten him - but he suddenly tried to offer this to me for free! Of course I said don’t be ridiculous, and tried to offer my original price, but he wasn’t having it. So I ended up fixing this weird machine thing in the back for him - although he seemed a little intimidated by me, which was strange. But now look at this beauty! It’s a real piece of home, Keith!” Lance put a gentle hand on the instrument as they walked briskly down towards the Castle.

Keith continued to blush, quite content with his current position under Lance’s arm and hearing that his plan had worked. He stayed silent, however, afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“Hey, Keith - I’m really sorry about what I said. You know, it’s just…” Lance started awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort.

Keith shook his head. “Yeah. Of course. It’s fine. Let’s just forget it, and move on.”

“Great! Oh man, I can’t wait to show everyone some songs from home. What’s something really annoying I can use to wake Pidge up every day?” Lance brightened considerably as they continued to walk.

Keith still felt a little hurt and confused by the whole encounter, but he wasn’t going to question this moment, when it was just Red and Blue, walking down the street of this alien world.

\-----------------------------------

So yes, Keith made sure Lance got his damn guitar because he was trying to make a peace offering. He didn’t know that it would create a soft spot for the Blue Paladin in his heart where there had been previously a begrudged inch for only Shiro.

Now Keith pined (a word and action he hated vehemently, often going to the training room to punch out his feelings on some bots), always trying to inconspicuously listen to Lance’s smooth, strong voice sing through the walls. Most of the time he would sing in Spanish, but not knowing the words didn’t stop Keith. He loved the steadiness of Lance’s singing, the calming tones, the grounding rhythms. However, there were a few songs in English that were clearly some of the Cuban boy’s favorites. It was a wide range, starting with Elvis and ending with Mumford & Sons, but it was clear Lance was also a fan of pop music. For a week straight, he snuck into Pidge’s room, and then started screaming Taylor Swift at full volume until he was chased, cackling, through the Castle by the very angry tiny tech gremlin.

Of course, Keith had his own favorite of Lance’s music choices.

Growing up, he hadn’t listened to much besides the easily accessible, angsty, loud, emo of the day. After joining the Garrison, music became an irrelevant distraction, one he didn’t have the time for if he was going to join his adoptive older brother amongst the stars.

But once, very late at night, Keith had been practicing steps with his bayard when he heard a new song echoing through the walls, a heartbreaking resigned sadness in the tone.

“ _Can you be my nightingale…sing to me, I know you’re there...you could be my sanity...bring me peace, sing me to sleep…”_

Keith had dropped his weapon with a loud clatter, wincing the moment it hit the floor. Still, Lance continued, and Red became absolutely mesmerized. Who was he singing this to, if anyone? What did it mean? Surely it wasn’t for Keith, right?

He shook his head sharply, irritated at his own stupidity. Of course not. Lance didn’t feel that way about him - hell, they’d only just edged towards friend territory - and he certainly didn’t know that Keith could hear him sing. Lance would most definitely have stopped or yelled at him if he’d known, right?

Before Keith realized what he was doing, he found himself pressed against the wall, trying to absorb the music and the deep hopelessness emanating from it.

For the rest of the song, and every time after, he sat like that, hoping Lance would somehow feel comforted through the wall.

On the other side, Lance sat as well, hugging his guitar and hoping that someone out there was listening.

\----------------------------------------

5 Months, 2 Weeks, 3 Days after Capture

 

Being free was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, he relished being able to move and retrain his body; it was a nice distinction from the emotions swirling in his head. On the other hand, he _hated_ the Arena. It wasn’t a fair fight for many of the contenders he went up against, and Keith knew he was killing others in the same position he was in, without the benefit of Voltron training. How ever much Red was suffering, though, he knew Blue would be doing a lot worse. At least, the Blue he knew. Keith still felt angry, frustrated, and betrayed by how everything went down. He wanted to trust Blue, desperately, but his mind had been so continually manipulated these past months under Haggar’s magic.

Was Blue even still alive though? He hadn’t heard anything about the other ex-paladin over the past 2 months. Was he being sent into the Arena as well?

As his spirits sunk lower, Keith’s body drew stronger. He was regaining all the muscle and memory of fighting before the capture, although the months of Haggar’s torture still lurked darkly in the back of his mind. That was for another day. Perhaps, if they ever found a way out, he could go back and revisit all he’d been through. But for now, the only way was forward. Sometimes he felt lonely, killing during the day and never sleeping at night, feeling more ghostly than human as he haunted his solitary cell. The thing was, Red knew how loneliness tasted, how to swallow the bitterness and keep going. It had been much easier before he’d known what having a family was like. Now that aching black abyss in his heart pounded in pain, and the sadness threatened to swallow him up.

Even if Lance was okay, he’d never be the same again. Neither would Keith - after everything they’d been through both separately and together. Keith wasn’t sure how he could quite trust Blue after those torture sessions, when Red finally thought he was truly alone in the universe, with no hope of escape or help.

Despite their rivalry, something strange had shifted between the two boys a while ago, and ever since, Lance consistently had had Keith’s back.

So now, Keith swore, he would have Lance’s.

They liked to mess with the weather in the Arena to keep things interesting, and today was particularly cold. Keith tried to run in place, preparing his body for the blast of wind that would happen at the door’s opening. It didn’t matter very much, anyway. He’d warm up soon enough once the fight started.

Keith pulled his hair back, tugging on the messy strands. He wasn’t not even sure he’d recognize himself at this point. His hair was down to his shoulders, and he had a thin, raised scar from collarbone to elbow. He had a permanent slight dent in his jaw from a particularly hard fight, and a close call by his eye that left a curved scar right under his left eye.

He’d developed a newfound appreciation for bodily autonomy since his release, and his scars left him feeling more empowered than broken. They meant he was alive, despite how hard the universe continually tried to kill him. But it still left him shaken when he caught glimpses of his appearance, and was vividly reminded he was no longer who he used to be.

The crowd’s usual roar turned into something closer to thunder as the announcer’s voice rumbled ominously. Keith didn’t even try to pay attention. It was easier to channel his training and go in ready for anything, rather than risk possibly be distracted or mislead by the announcer’s vague prologue.

Red cracked his neck, trying to ignore that underlying deep pain running in his bones as he stretched. He waited, adrenaline making him jittery even as he tried to stay calm.

The door opened.

It was freezing, but he’d been prepared for that. The wind howled around him, whipping and screaming as though it were in pain itself. Perhaps it could sense Keith’s emotions. It was certainly how he felt right now.

He looked around for a weapon - anything, really - and saw the mass of a poor dead creature left out in the middle of the Arena, a sword sticking out of its neck.

Keith sighed. So he was supposed to fight his opponent for the only weapon, then.

Sprinting over, he got distracted as the wind threatened to tear the sword out and send it flying across the dirt, most likely out of Keith’s reach. He moved faster, focusing only on the handle in front of him, until his fingers touched it and -

“Ah, I don’t think so.” The icy cold blade of a knife pressed into Keith’s neck. There it was. The strangely casual, cold voice of the passionate, loving Cuban boy he once knew. Technically, his rival. Technically, his ex-torturer.

Technically, his partner in crime.

Stormy grey-blue eyes met dark purple ones as both boys froze, recognizing each other in an instant.

Keith’s mind raced at a hundred miles per hour. What was he supposed to do in this situation? Would Lance try and kill him again, or plan a very bad escape? How could they get out of this without either of them dying?

“Oh, fuck.” Lance whispered. His eyes widened with panic, and Keith felt his lungs expand. They were on the same side. They just had to figure out how to make it out alive.

“You better fight back.” Keith growled, and in one swift movement, pulled the sword out, breaking the impasse. He backed up, smoothly tossing the blade into the air to adjust his grip. Lance narrowed his eyes, concern flashing across them before it was quickly masked by a sneer so distinctly malicious it only could have been learned from Lotor.

Keith shivered, giving in to a moment of fear himself before focusing on the sparks as their metal met, blades sharply snapping in tune as they danced around each other.

The wind screeched at furiously as they fought, just as intense as any sparring match they’d had during their time as Paladins; when they’d been angry hot-tempered rivals who could only process rage through physical fighting.

They fought without holding back, channeling 5 months of fear, pain, and suffering into the only evenly-matched battle they’d been in for a long time. Keith swiped and Lance would duck; Lance would push him back and Keith would counter forward. It was an elegant, violent waltz, one learned from endless hours fighting each other and even more spent battling in the Arena. They knew how to read each other, how to catch tells or weaknesses.

But unfortunately, the crowd didn’t care about clean footwork or smooth motions. They wanted blood, and that meant fighting dirty.

Keith was the first to draw blood, desperately trying to get Lance to drop the act and get more physical. Only one of them could escape alive, and it wasn’t until Red managed to get a shallow slash in across Blue’s leg that it all became real. It wasn’t a simulation, or another battle where he had to kill an alien creature. They were still in this nightmare together, and within the next twenty minutes, one of them would be dead.

That’s the way the game was played.

Shaken, Keith lost focus for a moment, regaining his attention at a sharp, burning pain in his shoulder. He hissed instinctively, curling in on himself to try and hide the new weakness. Lance looked wild, a mixture of fear and fury that made him into something else.

“Keith, you have to do it.” Lance hissed urgently, even as they continued to battle. For someone asking his...friend to kill him, he seemed very persistent and settled on the idea. Had he known about this battle beforehand, or just considered the possibility? Keith had been so blindsided by his own concerns about Lance that he’d completely ignored the likelihood that they’d be forced to kill each other. It was far from a pleasant idea.

“No.” Keith refused through gritted teeth, refusing to look Blue in the eyes. “I won’t. Not after everything. The team needs you to keep them together, to watch out for them.” He felt sweat dripping down his face and spine. There was no time for emotions now. He’d accepted his fate a long time ago.

Lance scoffed, his face openly full of disbelief. “Me? I don’t think so. They need you, Keith. You’re the best pilot in the galaxy.” His blue eyes sought purple as they clashed again, coming in close to face each other, only inches apart.

“They can find another hotshot Paladin, Lance.” Keith’s arm was beginning to feel numb, and the blood was quickly soaking through his clothes. He tried to catch his breath, but kept panting. “The likelihood of me getting out of here is low. But you - you’re...they liked you. You could get them to like you again.” The dance continued, but he was starting to get exhausted. Forced to switch to his other hand, everything swirled around him.

“It’s not worth it. I can’t do that again. The things I had to do.” Lance’s eyes welled up, and he choked on his words, the wind threatening to swallow them whole. He grabbed Keith’s arm tightly, pulling him in. His next words were practically whispered. “I need you to stay alive. I can’t fail you again, after what I put you through.”

Keith growled, enraged. “That wasn’t your fault! Lance - “

He shook his head, wild and determined. “I can’t do it, Keith. I can’t kill you. Please don’t ask me to kill you, because I can’t.” Lance’s hands began to shake as his mask faded into the old face Keith recognized. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“How can you ask me to kill you?! You think I’m a monster? Lance, don’t put that shit on me! I won’t do it!” Keith screamed, trying so hard to stay upright, even as black spots danced across his vision. How could Lance not understand how important he was? How could he think Keith cared enough to live in this prison without him, anchoring him in hope as always? He couldn’t even think straight anymore. All the emotion - fear, rage, and exhaustion - rolled over him in waves, crashing and blending into the roar of the crowd. “Lance, we need to fight back! You can defeat the Galra, I’m just another animal to them. You’re stronger than any of…” He trailed off, head spinning. Keith violently shook, trying to stay upright long enough to convince Lance of his argument. “Don’t leave me. I’m not a monster.” He could feel the words slurring in his mouth, his only focus keeping Lance’s ocean-blue eyes open.

Lance looked him dead in the eyes, a resigned sadness washing over him. Icey terror ran cold through Red’s veins. Lance pushed back, his hand gently moving Keith away. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He flipped his blade in the air, holding out his other hand to catch it. “Tell them all I’m sorry.”

Keith leapt forward, screaming, but it was too late. He watched as Lance snatched the knife out of the air and plunged it into his chest.

“NO!” Keith screamed, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to summon Voltron, or save the universe, or save the boy he’d fallen in love with. The damage was done. He was even too late to catch Lance as he fell, a sudden strong, electrical force holding him in place.

The two boys stared at one another. Lance, on his knees, startled by his own actions. Keith, screaming, frozen mid-stride by magic.

“No,” he whispered, his voice horse. His body shuddered. The sight before him was impossible. He reached out his hand, wanting to hold the other boy together, alive, just for a moment longer.

“It’ll be okay, Samurai.” It was barely a whisper, more of a breath, before the blood began to choke him from the inside out. Lance swayed, coughing and spitting. Blood poured onto the dirt around them, pooling at Keith’s feet. It seemed that he was losing blood from too many places, in too large a quantity. His brown skin began to pale, slowly matching the color of the sand around them.

Keith had never realized humans carried so much life in their veins.

Lance cried out for a moment, fully crumpling to the ground. Tears were streaming down his face as he curled in on himself, struggling to breathe. He made one more noise - it sounded like a name, or a word, or maybe a prayer, but all Keith heard was the sob that followed. Lance convulsed once, twice -

“Please.” Keith kept repeating. “Please don’t leave me.”

Stillness.

Keith screamed until his throat was raw. He stared in horror, hearing and seeing nothing but the blood, and Lance’s beautiful blue eyes, looking into the distance with hope.

He slumped to the ground, devastated by the damage before him.

Now he was truly alone, and the brightest star in his life was dead.


	10. Pink & Prayers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith drifts in and out of consciousness post-battle, inconsolable and unresponsive.

3 Weeks Before Capture

Keith 

 

Keith didn’t realize Lance was having a panic attack until it was too late to grab an adult. He felt himself begin to panic, completely unsure of what to do or how to help, until it became clear that Lance was struggling to simply _breathe._

They were sitting on the floor in the training room. Lance had managed, somehow, to fully fold himself into the farthest, darkest corner of the room. He was clearly trying to disappear, having been fully startled by the ship’s unexpected energy reboot that sounded eerily like a bomb going off.

He and Keith had been sparring until that point. Red had looked toward the door for a moment, startled, and by the time he’d turned back around, Lance had taken cover.

Keith, wide-eyed at seeing Lance in such a vulnerable state, froze for several moments. He held his bayard loosely at his side, his mind spinning a million miles per hour. This isn’t how he reacted to anxiety or panic or fear. He lashed out at others; he didn’t withdraw. So how could he possibly know the best way to help Lance?

The only thing that idea that ran through his mind was his personal favorite of Lance’s songs. It was sung like a gentle waltz, something intimate yet calming that always helped to distract Keith from whatever issue was inevitably making him edgy that day. But that - that would require something of Keith he wasn’t sure he had the courage to dredge up. So he crept over to the Blue Paladin instead, kneeling quietly in front of him. He reached out his hand.

“Lance?” His voice wavered, unsure. Maybe he was overstepping his bounds. Maybe Lance would get angry at him for seeing this episode, or whatever. Maybe-

Lance began to shake. He covered his eyes and shook his head wildly as he closed his eyes. Keith froze his outstretched hand mid-air. Okay. Maybe physical contact wasn’t the best option right now.

Desperate, he tried speaking again. “Lance, do you know where you are?”

Instead of getting through, Lance immediately started choking back sobs, much to Keith’s chagrin.

“Shit.” He swore under his breath. Shiro had briefly mentioned once, after a particularly bad fight between Keith and Lance, that the latter struggled more than he let on with the aftereffects of the bombing. The cryo-pods healed the physical, but not the mental. He could remember the pain, and sometimes hearing certain noises triggered him into those memories. It was why Lance was so easily startled as of late; why he’d laugh shakily and then disappear for a few hours. Keith had always ignored it - they all had their issues, and it wasn’t his place to bug Lance about something he clearly didn’t want to talk about. Besides, patience had never been his strong suit. It was what had gotten them into that far-off fight in the first place.

He hadn’t realized it was this bad for Lance, though.

Heart beating rapidly and the sweat from their training exercising dripping off his face, Keith hesitantly began to hum. His voice was rough, nowhere near as melodic and smooth or practiced as Lance’s, but he could still carry the tune.

Lance stilled almost immediately. Keith took that as a good sign, and sat more comfortably close to the other Paladin as he continued through the chorus. He was still only humming - actually singing the words required too much confidence for today - but it seemed to carry through to Lance.

As Keith continued, he noticed the Cuban boy slowly reach out a hand. Keith followed his lead, and their fingers intertwined, resting on the ground in between them as Keith worked his way through the song. A few moments later, he noticed that Lance was humming along. His breathing regulated, and soon it was just the two of them. Equally terrified teenage boys reaching out to one another, humming in the darkest corner of the alien training room on the alien spaceship in the middle of an intergalactic war that rested on their shoulders.

Lance’s head fell onto Keith’s shoulder. He promptly fell asleep.

Keith didn’t move for a whole hour, his face a brilliant red matching that of his lion as he repeated the song over and over, breathing in rhythm with Lance.

He could be uncomfortable for an hour. He’d been in worse positions.

\------------------

5 Months, 2 Weeks, 3 Days after Capture

Much, much worse.

An electric jolt coursed through his body, forcing him to freeze in pain. Keith fell to the desert floor with an empty head and a broken heart, slowly blacking out but refusing to take his eyes off of Lance, even as his limp, lifeless body was dragged away.

Who was going to hold him? Who was going to protect him from the world, from his own thoughts, from the shattering hopelessness that always threatened to overtake him?

He was going to keep him safe.

_Nothing matters. Nothing matters. Nothing matters. I failed. Lance is dead._ The thoughts circled around in Keith’s head dully, and finally he let unconsciousness wash over him.

\---------------------

Haggar had done many things to Keith during his time under her thumb, but most had filtered out of his head after some time. It was necessary, given the constant onslaught of pain and magical manipulation she forced him through. He’d fought it aggressively at first, determined to get back to Lance. He’d refused to believe anything he saw or heard, knowing full well what Haggar was capable of. But one day, delirious from the magic and drenched in sweat, his body shaking from the adrenal fatigue, he saw a Galra soldier pass by, covered in blood, snarling with pride about how this was the blood of a Paladin.

It was then that Red decided to believe anything and everything he saw, as well as forget it the next day. Better to agree. Better to accept that he was alone, and he’d lost everything.

It was going to be okay, a nagging note caught back in his mind reminded him. Voltron is still looking. Voltron will still save you.

Keith didn’t remember much of the stories Haggar told, but a particularly nasty one always stuck in the back of his brain, the hyper-realism getting under his skin. It came in flashes, after some of the worst sessions, out of the corner of his eye, as if reality itself was thinning and showing the gaps of Haggar’s power.

Allura, dead. Sacrificed to bring back her entire planet. Made into an unnecessary martyr.

Earth, taken over by the Galra. War raged over the entire planet, and many were killed. Voltron swept in three years too late to stop them, having been trapped and pulled and manipulated by time, which constantly seemed to work against them.

Lance, desperate to be seen and loved and appreciated by someone. He finally wore Allura down and they were in love, or so it seemed - it was hard to move past the fact that Allura was ultimately focused on the state of the planet, and that Lance was now relegated to boyfriend duties instead of being recognized as a skilled soldier. He was nothing but a brief lover, used as an emotional distraction.

Shiro, broken and replaced by more robotic pieces, moved to be another robot. Adam was dead, what did he have left?

They weren’t a family anymore. They weren’t even a team. They abandoned each other and suffered alone, buried by grief and the guilt of all whom they had failed.

Every time it was different. But ultimately, the moral of the story was the same: failure, loss, grief, and loneliness.The endlessness of space. The powerlessness of his situation.

Keith ached in his heart for better days. For better chances. For better universes.

He distantly realized his was no longer in Haggar’s room, but on the ground of a cell, chained to the wall, and slumped on the floor. Staring vacantly ahead, he tried to remember how to breathe - tried to remember anything, only to realize the mistake in that - and curled into himself tighter. Forgetting was much harder than remembering.

“What’s wrong with him?” The Galra on duty for Red’s jail growled, clanging on the bars in an effort to get a rise out of the ex-paladin.

“Dunno. Boss said he was really far gone and needed to be taken to reconditioning at some point.” A passing guard stopped to respond.

“But he survived the arena. He should be fine.”

There was a brief silence before the Galra soldier on patrol decided to make an effort of whispering, although it was useless in a place where every step echoed.

“I think they made him kill his partner.”

There was a strange moaning, howling, a pained scream coming from far away. It seemed to be getting closer, and closer, until the bars were open and the Galra soldiers were beating Keith up and he realized the sound had been coming from him. Blood splattered on the floor. He bit his tongue to keep from making more noise.

Silence. Eventually, the Galra left.

Keith cried.

Lance crouched next to him, a ghostly hand resting on his shoulder in sympathy. “Hey man, let’s play a game. Get out of this place for a bit. Neither of us wants to be stuck here.”

Haggar’s strange magic whirled at their feet, the remnants of it dredged up by Keith’s own inconsolable, trauma-strained mind.

“A memory”, he whispered softly, slurring his words in exhaustion.

“Yeah, a memory. How about the banquet?” Ghost-Lance seemed to cheer considerably at the idea.

“Banquet…” Keith murmured, tucking his cold hands around himself to imitate a hug. He shut his eyes and thought about the stars.

\-----------------------------

“Okay, so, upside of going to the banquet is hot people, I get to dress up, and food. Downside is that the speeches are ridiculously boring and Shiro is always monitoring me like a hawk.” Lance prattled on, perched on a chair as he listed his thoughts.

Shiro sighed heavily at the Castle’s mainframe computer, not for the first time today. “Lance, you say this as if you have a choice in going. I told you, all Paladins of Voltron are required to go.” The oldest Paladin rubbed at his forehead tiredly.

Hunk took one look at Lance’s furrowed brow and open mouth and interrupted before an argument would ensue. “Lance, I think it’ll be fun! Focus on the positives. Like new food! I’m really excited to find out what ingredients I can collect from this planet for us to take to go.” The yellow Paladin spoke dreamily, all while handing Pidge a variety of tools without looking or either of them speaking out loud.

Lance bounced down from his spot and moved to the floor by his best friend. “I know, I wasn’t trying to start anything. I was just debating how much effort I should put into making an escape attempt during the banquet.”

“You’ve got poor escape planning skills if you talk about them in front of the jailer”, Keith commented with a smirk, sharpening his knives in the corner.

“Hey!” Both Lance and Shiro turned to face him, offended.

“I’m just trying to be upfront about my plans.” Lance said, frowning as he put his hand over his chest in defense.

“Right, sure.” Keith drawled.

“Oh, you think you can do better, emo-boy? You don’t know how hard it is to slip away when you’re the center of attention! It’s more difficult to escape unnoticed when you’re not already lurking on the edges.” Lance crossed his arms and planted himself in front of the shorter boy, who sensed a challenge approaching (as did Shiro, by the panicked look on his face in the background, unable to stop the two).

“Exactly. Which is why I’m saying you’re being ridiculous, because you don’t have the skills or the experience to succeed at your plan. You couldn’t be quiet or turn down being the center of attention if it was a life or death situation. Also, I’ve lived with Shiro for a long time. You think I don’t know how to get out some fancy event I don’t want to be at?” Keith raised his eyebrows, mouth in a straight line of unimpressed.

“Oh, you’re on, my chemical romance.” Lance leaned in with a sneer, an evil glint in his eye. “You’re on.” And with that, Blue stood up and waltzed away, calling for Allura.

“What’s happening?” Shiro asked, clearly very concerned about whatever had just transpired.

“Nothing.” Keith shrugged nonchalantly.

“You do realize successfully earning this planet’s trust is a crucial move in the Alliance? If either of you start or, god forbid, finish any fights - “ Shiro inhaled, instinctively trying to take deeper breaths. Keith never even flinched, just nodded calmly.

“Don’t worry, Shiro. I will be completely mature.” Keith practiced a swift stab before flipping the knife back and forth between his hands.

“I don’t trust you at all.” Shiro said flatly, eyes narrowed into daggers.

“Cool. Probably smart.” Red grinned, knowing his older brother would be particularly irritated.

“You’re a brat. I should have left you in the desert.” The Black Paladin sighed, turning back to his work.

Keith huffed a light laugh, then returned to sharpening his knife. Now it was time to plot.

\----------------------

The banquet, for all its unfortunate political distractions, was a sight to behold. And, thanks to the joint work of Allura and Lance, so were the Paladins.

Everyone, save the two fashion-oriented Paladins, was dressed in sleek, silk-like suits accented with the color of their lion. Allura was in a regal light pink dress that twirled and shimmered like an early sunset. Lance had picked it out, delighted by the colors and the more elegant yet whimsical style. He had made an inhuman sort of screech upon the discovery, babbling on in excitement about how similar it was to a character in one of his favorite movies - the prequels, she recalled with confusion - and how it was perfect that she too should look like a magical space senator.  

For Lance himself, he’d chosen a dark blue ensemble with slightly lighter blues woven in sporadically. The entire piece was made up of tight pants, a half-skirt that exposed part of his legs, a simple corset, and a short jacket to finish it off. It was dramatic, but so was Lance. Upon both his and the Princess’ show-stopping entrance, Keith had just about blacked out.

Not only was Lance absolutely stunning, but the Red Paladin suddenly felt extremely underdressed, even though he matched Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge. Not to mention that he hated wearing anything but his training clothes anyway. But it suddenly seemed most important to be matching Lance; someone that Blue could have on his arm instead of Allura. At that notion, a flush began to creep its way up Keith’s neck, and he felt, just a bit, like he wanted to die.

“So? How do we look? Allura and I spent forever trying to perfect the makeup and hair, but between the two of us - “ Lance chattered excitedly, genuinely happy as he mirrored Allura’s expression.

“Yeah, yeah, you look great. Can we go now?” Pidge moaned loudly, pushing themself off the wall to stride forward. “You’ll make a great slutty Ambassador of Voltron. Now let’s get to the banquet, I’m starving!”

“Pidge, there’s no need to be rude.” Shiro frowned, glancing down at the smallest Paladin.

“I’m not trying to be, Shiro!” They put their hands up in defense. “He’s always joking about how much he sleeps around, I was just trying to be funny.” They grumbled, crossing their arms across their chest.

Lance just laughed. “It’s fine, I’m not offended. Plus, Pidge is right - I would make a fantastic escort in this outfit!” He swirled, bowed, and shimmied, making Hunk and Pidge cackle while Shiro sighed and Allura looked on with confusion. Keith was still frozen in his spot, fighting a growing, ugly feeling of jealous settling into his nerves as he thought about all those people Lance had previously been with. He was unsure how to engage in this banter while avoiding completely revealing his feelings, and was just tempted to take off when Lance looked over and threw him a wink. Keith physically moved back, caught completely off guard by the sudden attention. After a moment where Lance’s smile began to fade, Keith offered a small hesitant grin in return.

“Still on for tonight?” Lance broke the tension, striding toward the shorter boy.

“I’ll never pass up an opportunity to beat you at something.” Keith snarked back, neck hot with embarrassment as Blue swung his arm around to push them into a half-hug. They followed the rest of the crew to their lions, striding in time with each other.

Lance threw back his head and laughed. “You wish, Hot Topic.”

Keith frowned. “I’ve actually never been there.”

Lance shrugged it off, waving his words away. “It’s not about facts, it’s about the emo-angsty-aura you give off. It’s the brooding, and the fact that you probably like Fall Out Boy.”

Protesting, Keith threw Lance’s arm off. “Hey, they have good music!”

Lance grinned. “See, you’re just proving my point.”

Keith growled, elbowing him sharply but staying closely at Lance’s side.

\-------------------

This. Was. Brutal.

Keith was pretty sure by this point that banging his head against the table would be less painful then listening to another second of the At’tlaxi debating the tiny nuances of every word of the contract agreeing to join the Alliance. Allura was still keeping up a good game face but was clearly wearing thin. Shiro sat next to her with a similar expression, his mouth in a thin line and eyebrows drawn tightly together. Pidge had tried to engage in a conversation with their alien counterparts about technology, and Hunk had tried similarly about their meal and culture around food, but neither had succeeded. All any of the members of this planet wanted to talk about was the Voltron Alliance and what it would mean for their society. One in particular had gone on about their concerns regarding the socio-economic implications for several minutes to Keith before Lance had taken pity, swept in, and rescued him.

“My hero.” Keith said dryly. Lance jostled him before responding.

“Hey, I can see the gratefulness in your eyes.”

Keith hoped that was all Lance saw. Blue’s face had been lighting up at every compliment from the variety of attractive aliens that spoke to him, and Keith tried his hardest to hold himself back from coming between Lance and his well-deserved fans. However overprotective he was feeling, he did not want to be jealous. Besides, Lance was a flirt who loved similarly charismatic, pretty people. He didn’t feel the same way about Keith, and the Red Paladin was going to have to be okay with that.

But now, stuck sitting in a method of torture that was on par with some of the Garrison’s worst seminars, Keith would gladly take watching Lance flirt with others.

He glanced over at Blue, who was similarly agitated and ready to make his escape.

Game on, Keith thought. It really was going to be a difficult task sneaking away unnoticed with every eye on them. But of course, that had been the whole part of their bet, hadn’t it?

Just as Keith was letting his eyes drift off of Lance, he caught the other boy’s eye contact and the two stared for a moment. He felt frozen in time, the droning of alien voices and languages fading into the background as a mischievous grin slowly crept up Lance’s face. Keith, against his will, felt a bit of a smile crinkling the corner of his mouth before he narrowed his eyes and nodded. Lance winked, Keith flushed, and the game began.

He quickly turned to the alien sitting next to him and leaned over, hiding his face from the important end of the table where Allura, Shiro, and the world’s designated ambassadors sat.

“Hey.” He elbowed the alien, who, startled, turned to look at him in surprise. “What would I have to do to get you to ignore my empty seat?” He whispered, blunt and harsh. The alien’s eyes widened.

“Uh...Excuse me?” They squeaked, clearly frightened at being addressed directly. “Why would you want to leave? It was just getting interesting!”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Sure, whatever, but I’ve heard this speech a million times, and…” He thought back to his best Earth lies. “I’ve actually been assigned a secondary mission, in which i secure the location from any would-be assassins.”

Somehow, the alien’s eyes grew wider. “But we have guards! And we’re a peaceful planet!” They hissed in panic.

“It’s happened before,” Red shrugged. “But nothing will happen if you pretend I was never here.” He flashed his freshly sharpened blade under the table. “We’re the Paladins of Voltron. I just want to check and make sure everyone here is safe, and then I’ll be back.”

The alien glanced across the table, and some form of understanding seemed to cross their face. “Okay.” They sighed, clearly tired of the crazy humans’ escapades. “I won’t say anything. Have fun with your partner.” They turned back to listen to the discussion, arms crossed, and it was Keith’s turn to be confused as he turned around and saw Lance’s empty chair.

“Damnit, Lance! You sneaky piece of…” He swore up and down under his breath before taking a quick glance around the room, and, seeing everyone’s attention elsewhere, smoothly rolled under the table and soundlessly took the chair with him. He hadn’t caught the inference in the alien’s statement.

The Blade of Marmora training had done more than the other Paladins could have imagined, both good and bad. But using his skills for fun - and, of course, beating Lance - made it all the more worthwhile. Keith grinned as the diplomat formalities droned on above him. The table was wide enough that as long as he was careful, there was little danger of being kicked or accidentally brushing against someone’s leg.

Keith had scoped out the enormous dining hall before they’d sat down. He was expected to “mix and mingle” by Allura, but Shiro had given him an exhausted look that conveyed the general warning for Red: Do. Not. Fuck. This. Up.

His only job had really been to stay out of the way while the more charismatic Paladins took over, so during that time, he’d wandered around and noted all the exits. The way the hall was built, it curved like an egg into the exit, which sharply turned into a maze of smaller hallways. If Keith could crawl to the other end of the table, opposite the most important dignitaries and guests, and roll to the exit, he could stand up at the corner and no one would ever be the wiser.

Satisfied with his plan, he smirked, and began to carefully turn around to face the unimportant end of the table. There was no way Lance hadn’t been caught by now. Just getting up and walking out? It was a powerful move, but nevertheless, Blue had never been great at being quiet -

Keith found himself nose to nose with Lance. Locking shocked eyes, the two of them stared for a moment before they began the most aggressive and quiet screaming match of their lives.

“DUDE! You can’t steal my idea!” Lance hissed, furiously motioning and almost hitting the table.

Keith winced, never breaking his glare. “Your idea?! I planned this _way_ in advance, and i didn’t even see you go - “

“Exactly.” Lance smirked. Keith just glowered.

“Beat this.” In one smooth move, Keith push Lance down and crawled over him, moving extremely quickly towards the door. All that air vent training the Blade had put him through was beginning to feel slightly useful after all.

“What the fuck! Keith, you little shit, get back here!” Lance followed closely behind. He reached out, and suddenly Keith’s chin smacked into the floor as the other boy pulled on his ankle.

“Motherfucker-” Keith swore, feeling his teeth rattle a bit. He turned back around, and pulled on Lance’s hair, feeling more pissed than was probably necessary given that they were almost 18 year olds hiding under a table during an important diplomatic meeting representing the universe’s only hope on a planet many light years away from Earth.

But also, Lance was being a dick.

Lance screeched, and suddenly the rules were forgotten as a tussle broke out. It wasn’t until someone accidentally kicked Blue, who opened his mouth to yelp, when Keith clapped a hand over his face to muffle the sound, that they froze. Breathing heavily, they realized a tense silence had broken out over the room.

Allura sounded pissed, most likely having caught on to the fact that not one, but two, Paladins were missing. “Please continue, Leader At’qexor.” She spoke through gritted teeth, probably sending telepathic murder messages to Keith and Lance.

The two boys looked at each other with panic. If they got caught, Allura would flay them alive before the At’tlaxi even touched them.

Silently and quickly, like the trained professionals they were, they continued to move towards the door and, opening seeing their exit, cleanly rolled away from under the table and around the corner. Keith stood up first and offered Lance a hand, smirking. Lance smacked it away dramatically, and Red rolled his eyes.

“Let’s get out of here.” Lance whispered conspiratorially. Keith raised an eyebrow, willing the blush creeping up his neck to stay hidden by the similarly red collar of his suit.

“Lance, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to make a move on me.” He said dryly, opting for snark in fear of his voice cracking otherwise.

“You wish.” Lance winked, and grabbed Red’s hand, leading them both down the hallways towards the gardens outside. But Keith was looking closely, and there was a faint pink blush dusted across Lance’s freckled cheeks. He’d seen hundreds of planets and fought amongst the stars in ways Garrison students could only dream of, but Lance’s freckles were the first constellation to take his breath away.

Keith had never held on so tight to someone’s hand.

\----------------------------

The memory ended abruptly as Keith was slapped sharply across the face, ringing in his ears and spots in his eyes. He started to fight back. Lance couldn’t be dead, he just wasn’t. He was so vibrant and alive and colorful in that moment, in every moment, like he fed off the light around him and it just made him brighter.

“No, no, no, no.” Keith tried to pull away, determined not to wake up, to just go back to believing -

\- until he remembered, now fully conscious, and slumped back down tiredly. Let the Galra take him. Kill him. It didn’t matter. The game was over.

Lance was dead.

The soldiers pulled him to his feet, half-dragging him and half-carrying him through a maze of halls and Keith tried desperately to jump back into his dream. His memory.

Of course, the memory had also ended because of what happened next.

The Galra had been waiting for the Paladins to split up, and, seeing the opportunity, grabbed both Red and Blue before they’d even had a chance to draw their bayards. The Galra had already infiltrated the planet, and the whole meeting with Voltron was a charade to draw them in. At least, that’s what Keith believed. Lance was still convinced they’d all been set up, but it’s not like it mattered now. Whatever happened past that, one thing was clear - the rest of Voltron had escaped safely, and also had no idea where Keith and Lance were, let alone the fact that they were alive.

There’d been a spark of hope that news about the arena would travel past this Galra cruiser, but apparently they were keeping the rest of the universe in the dark about their upper hand. Theoretically Allura should have been able to track them through Red, but the druid’s magic had quickly managed to shut the lion down. The whole thing was a mess, and they were still in the thick of it.

They. _Me._ Keith thought miserably. He couldn’t shake Lance’s eyes or the blood from his memory. He felt like the dirt was still in his mouth, and he just wanted to curl up back in his cell and try to relive any memory of Lance being alive again. At least they’d had that last moment at the banquet. Despite everything that happened afterwards.

Keith was unceremoniously thrown onto the floor at the feet of the druid, who looked down at him with a sneer.

“Time for reconditioning, Red. Your partner may have survived my first round, but I’ve got some new concoctions in store. We can’t have you dying on us quite yet, hmm? I’ve heard humans can sometimes die of a broken heart. What pathetic creatures. We’ll soon rid you of that.” She laughed, a broken, raspy sounding attempt, before lifting Keith up and holding him into making eye contact with her.

“It’s time to bring out your Galra side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, it was a rough one trying to get this chapter out, but it's one of the longest yet to make up for the long wait! (I had to take a break after the brutal awfulness of Season 8. I'm still real pissed about it tbh, but we carry on)  
> I think I'm going to start aiming for an update a month, but chapters will prob be longer and I promise I do have a plan for this story, so it will be finished over the next few months! Thanks everyone for sticking with me, your lovely comments absolutely make my day <3

**Author's Note:**

> Send me your thoughts and rants here, or at my Tumblr! - thequeerboysart.tumblr.com - I love suggestions and feedback!


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